Raving Role Reversal
by SummerRain53
Summary: Although they would never admit it, Minerva and Severus enjoy nothing more than their heated Quidditch debates. Well... Alright, probably they prefer mocking each other. But when both get hit by a mysterious spell that forces them to live the other one's life for a while, they can't just keep tormenting each other! ...Or would they? No Pairings/Slash
1. The mysterious purple spell

_Hello everyone! _

_I am still pretty new here, so I'm not familiar with the process of uploading stories, and this is also my first story ever to be written in English (which is not my first language as you may have realised by now). So please be kind and forgive me (or correct me, so that I won't make the same ones again) any major mistakes.  
Other than that, you may already have figured out that I am not J. K. Rowling, meaning that I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other characters mentioned in this story published on a website called __fanfic__, which, I guess, is self-explanatory.  
Anyways, have fun reading and tell me what you think of the story ;)  
_

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"Me, breaking the rules?", Minerva exclaimed heatedly. Then she added: „It is your bloody team that will be riding Nimbus 2001 only, won't it?"

"So?", Severus said in return, the usual sneer on his face. "May I remind you that it was _you _who broke-" "Bended!", she interjected. "No, _broke_ the rules not once but twice last year by getting that Potter-brat onto your team?"

It was well known to all who were familiar with the fact that Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape were the Heads of the ever-rivalling Houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin that, whenever a Quittich game between the teams of aforementioned Houses was to take place, both professors became positively unbearable when they were in the same room. The school year of 1992/93 had started out no different from the previous ones: Weeks before the match, which was scheduled for Saturday, 7th of November, their arguments had become increasingly passionate each day. So naturally, two days before the match, they were at their worst.

Everyone who happened to be as unlucky as to find themselves trapped in the staff room during the morning break on that particular day was careful not to make a single sound. Everyone but Pomona Sprout and Septima Vector, that is, who stood near the window whispering and enjoying the show. "He mentioned Potter!", Septima said under her breath, a huge grin on her face. "Now, this is getting really good."

Pomona agreed cheerfully, a fact that Minerva was not aware of for she drew a sharp breath. "Don't you dare bring Potter into this _again!_", she warned her colleague while fortifying her statement with the notorious McGonagall-glare, a piercing gaze that only few could hold.

Severus, however, simply declined to look away; he seemed far too satisfied when he noted that this annoyed, surprised her even. "Does he have a death-wish?", Pomona whispered somewhat impressed into the silence that followed.

After a staring-contest of about two minutes, during which either one refused to look away, an alarming smirk appeared on the Potion Master's pale lips. For some reason he conjured up a hair tie with which he forced his greasy hair into a strict bun. _Has he gone mad?_, Minerva asked herself rather confused. Before she had a chance to prevent it, Severus had snatched not only Minerva's treasured tartan scarf, but also her pointy hat; having put on both, his face took on a stern look.

_What in Merlin's name…? _Minerva couldn't think it out, for Severus announced snootily: "I am Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor, Transfiguration Professor and about the fairest person who ever walked this castle, nay, this _planet_, save any matter concerning my Quidditch team. In that particular case I will do everything in my power to make them win, rather unsuccessfully I may add, for we have been on a losing streak for six years!" Snape put on a pitiful look. "Last year, Ravenclaw has brought our worst defeat in centuries on us, and the year before Slytherin flattened us…"

The witch snorted. A few teachers couldn't stop themselves from giggling, but Minerva, who had crossed her arms while watching the Potion Master, shot them a glance that put them to quiet. Then she shook her head. "That was the worst imitation I have ever seen", the witch stated drily.

"The stage is yours", Severus simply said, his left eyebrow raised in a rather smug way. "Impress me."

Now Minerva was the one to grin maliciously. After bewitching her robes to billow while she was pacing around menacingly, she opened her hair and cast a spell on it to make it look greasy. With her most indifferent facial expression, she mimicked Severus' sneering voice: "My name is Severus, but you can call me Snape. I do not approve of inferior people calling me by my given name, especially students and Goldilocks" -thereby referring to Gilderoy Lockhart, the maddening Defence teacher- "who I hate almost as much as everything that has to do with a _Potter_", she spit out the last word as if it were something utterly disgusting, "but for the record, I don't like any of you very much, either."

Quite a few staff members looked at her in astonishment. "Well, that was rather uncanny", Septima stated and Pomona agreed with her. Meanwhile, Minerva stared triumphantly at Severus. For a short second he seemed pretty shirty, and the witch couldn't help but wonder whether she had only been imagining it when he immediately went back to smiling sardonically.

"Not bad", he commented, still grinning. "But something is missing…" Taking out his wand in a split second, he fired a wordless spell at her. Minerva, too surprised to dodge it, got hit right in the chest where a huge, bright green Slytherin emblem appeared, the silvery snake slowly winding and hissing.

"How _dare _you…!", the Transfiguration teacher ranted, followed by a load of heavy and very Scottish swearwords that made the other teachers either stare at her in disbelieve or blush in a deep shade of cherry pink; or both. Solely Snape was gloating, so Minerva furiously drew her wand and hexed him: Severus was now sporting a bulky lion's mane instead of his regular greasy hairstyle.

She was still cackling at the livid Snape who once again raised his wand when the big oak door burst open. Gilderoy Lockhart, commonly referred to as _Goldilocks _by his fellow teachers, chose that very moment to make his big entrance.

Clad in forget-me-not blue from tip to toe, he beamed all too brightly at them while his eyes were curiously scrutinising Minerva and Severus, both frozen in the motion of blasting new spells at each other. "What in Merlin's name is going on here?", he inquired sounding far too amused for Minerva's liking.

From the corner of her eye she saw Severus' wand-hand twitch, almost as if he considered _accidently _firing his spell at Goldilocks instead of her. Now _this _would have been fun, although it was already too late for a surprised reaction. After giving Severus a short, admiring glance that she regretted the very second he caught it, Minerva lowered her wand and turned away from both men.

"Fine, so it's a tie", the Deputy Headmistress murmured grudgingly while removing the snake from her robes. Then she turned to face her colleagues again, snapping: "What are you still doing here? Shouldn't you all be teaching by now?" In fact, classes had begun about two minutes ago.

"No need to treat us like students", Pomona nagged, though she was smiling as always. "Come on, Silvanus, let's get going!", she then called out to the ancient Care of Magical Creatures Professor, who was heading, like her, to the Hogwarts Grounds.

Snape, however, seemed to have decided not to make a fuss at all, and when Minerva saw the loathing glare he shot at Goldilocks, she knew just about why. "Fine, I was just leaving anyways", he stated icily. With a few steps, he had come over to where the Transfiguration Professor was standing, putting her pointy hat back on her head where it belonged.

"Next time I won't be so easy on you", he sneered quietly. "Bring it on", she answered, looking him right in the eye with a challenging smile on her lips. He smirked one short, last time at her before recomposing his face to his usual mask of annoyance. Then he turned around energetically, his robes billowing behind him, walking right past Goldilocks who still stood in the doorframe.

"What are you staring at? Shouldn't you be reading your books to third-years?", she shooed Prince Charming away. Minerva had never been particularly fond of that clown when he was grinning like a Cheshire cat at her from books and posters, but ever since she had had to deal with him on a personal level, left alone _work _with him, she positively despised the man with the golden locks.

From the irritated look he shot her, the elderly witch concluded that he didn't like her that much either, or at least that he didn't understand how any human being could _not _be delighted with his presence.

Nevertheless, he did as she had told him to, and slowly the staff room emptied out.

Minerva stayed in the teacher's lounge though, for she didn't have another class until after lunch and she was awfully glad of it; Thursdays were always somewhat tiring. This might have something to do with her first class that day being a Fourth form of both Gryffindor and Slytherin. Apart from the fact that it was _never _a particularly good idea to combine those two Houses, Fred and George Weasley happened to be in that class. Although they usually respected her much more than any other teacher, the upcoming Quidditch match had gotten them excited, too, and the had played a few pranks on the Slytherins. The worst thing, however, was that Minerva couldn't even hold a grudge, for she had behaved equally childish merely a few minutes ago. She let out a sigh. What a great role model she was…

"Are you quite alright?", Filius Flitwick, who was just on his way to his classroom, enquired with his squeaking voice, a gentle smile on his face. The Head of Gryffindor answer with a short nod. "Yes, yes, don't you worry about me." She then took a seat at her usual place on the big, wooden table and with a rare, little smile in her colleague's direction she took out the staple of Sixth form essays that she had intended to grade during her free period.

Twenty minutes later she gave up on that idea. Minerva had a very hard time concentrating; her thoughts kept trailing off and so she finally gave in to them. Still staring on Penelope Clearwater's parchment, she found herself pondering Severus Snape.

Ever since he had started working as a Potion Master twelve years ago, the two of them had been rivals and they did never miss out on a single occasion to display their mutual hatred. Only… they didn't _really _despise each other. She didn't, at least. Although Severus could be a real pain in the neck from time to time, she rather enjoyed their teasing and their arguments like the one they had before. Not that she would ever _dream_ of admitting it.

The elderly witch also thought that he had a wicked sense of humour and although she had been rather sceptical on his behalf when he first started at Hogwarts, she had come to respect, nay, even like her… friend? Was that what he was? A friend?

Minerva couldn't have told how long she had been sitting there, thinking, but suddenly she was rudely awoken from her musings when the door behind her clunk shut. The witch turned her head to see who had entered the room, only to be greeted by the animated chattering of Charity Burbage, the Professor of Muggle Studies who must have dismissed her class rather early, and Aurora Sinistra who, according to her still rather sleepy look, had just woken up.

Sometimes she envied the Astronomy Professor, for she could sleep in practically every day. But then again… Was staying up all night, teaching, really worth those few hours of undisturbed sleep? "Morning, Minerva", Aurora greeted her with a warm smile. "Some student's waiting for you out there. Guess he wants to talk to you 'bout something."

"Then why didn't he simply knock on the door?", the Deputy Headmistress asked a little confused while getting up and gathering the essays.

The other two women sniggered. "Apparently, he did", Charity answered, chuckling. "You must have overheard him."

Minerva put on her sternest expression. "That's ridiculous", she stated drily, but walking to the door nevertheless. Truth be told, it wasn't all that unlikely, she really had been lost in her reverie, but she would certainly not confess that. Minerva McGonagall did not daydream.

"Excuse me, Professor?", a small voice squeaked once she stepped into the Great Hall. She lowered her eyes just to discover the mousy brown head of Colin Creevy, a tiny first year Gryffindor. When she saw the twinge of panic in his face, her expression grew softer immediately.

"Yes, how may I help you?", she asked in her most comforting voice. First years were always rather touchy, especially around this time of the year. They had never been away from their parents for so long, Christmas was not to far down the road and the youngest students were constantly on the verge of tears…

Creevy's eyes were still wide with fear facing the strict Professor, although he seemed to relax slightly. "Th-There is something like a… a fight going on a-and…" He swallowed, continuing so rapidly that she had trouble understanding him. "Courtyard… -easley 'nd -eek Slytherin… trouble… 's scared… -eir waaands out… nowhere! …ran to you."

"One of the Weasleys and a slick blonde Slytherin are making trouble, you were scared because they even had their wands out, there were no Prefects anywhere near so you came running to me?", Minerva repeated. After about 45 years of teaching, she had more or less learned to understand First-Year-ish. "Alright, I'm coming with you."

The boy who was running to keep up with her looked rather anxious again, but this time she didn't mind at all. Students fighting, in the courtyard, with their wands out! That was too much. Something like that was not to happen in _her _school, under _her _supervision. She would not tolerate suchlike behaviour.

Minerva gripped her wand tighter, which made her white knuckles stand out even more. White-hot fury must have been written all over her face, for every student she encountered made way for her or stood rooted to the ground with fear instead.

Still, she couldn't move as fast as she wanted to because by this time of the day, the halls were jam-packed with students on their way to the Great Hall where lunch would be served in a few minutes. It took her unnaturally long to arrive in the courtyard, but once she set foot on the grass, everything happen as quick as a flash.

"RONALD WEASLEY!", she heard herself roar at the youngest male member of the red-head clan at the top of her lungs. Though he stood with his back to her, he was easy to be recognised by his flaming ret hair and his gawky physique, clutching his wand clumsily while pointing it at...

"DRACO MALFOY!", another man bawled, his quavering voice much stronger than the Deputy Headmistress'. Severus glared at the 2nd year Slytherin who was paralysed by fear. Obviously, he must have provoked Weasley, not thinking the fool would _actually _take out his wand.

She saw the Head of Slytherin heading towards the students from the other side of the courtyard, beside himself with rage. Apparently, they had had the same idea: Much like herself, Snape gripped his wand tightly, pointed it at Ron and screamed: "Expelliarmus!" at the very same time Minerva did.

Weasley's broken wand, however, must have taken on a life of its own, for it didn't seem to obey his orders anymore. From both ends, it fired a strange purple beam of light at the attackers, hitting them both right in the chest.

Minerva was thrown back violently, landing in the greyish November grass. At first, she felt a sharp, stinging pain; then she was as light as air, not even feeling the burning sensation anymore. This didn't last for long, though, for shortly afterwards the weirdest feeling was flowing through her entire body, something between burning pain and a swirling sensation. Her head was spinning and she felt ten times worse than she had after the one and only time Albus had talked her into taking a ride on one of those Muggle death-machines. What had he called it? A Rollercoaster?

For about two seconds, she did not venture on getting up, for she was feeling far to nauseous and her head was pounding. Minerva did not want to fall back down again, not in front of the… students! Right, there was a fight going on!

She jumped up immediately with an agility that would make any other seventy-something years old go green with envy. _How curious… _Minerva felt as if she was bursting with energy all of a sudden. What kind of spell…? Never mind, there were more important matters to take care of first!

"RONALD WEASLEY!", she growled yet again, but all that she heard was the very same name shouted in Severus' voice, who must have spoken simultaneously. The odd thing was, however, that he was nowhere to be seen.

A crowd of students gazed at her, white-faced with anxiety. Said redhead stared at her, his eyes wide with terror. He looked more dreadful than all of the others combined. "I'm so sorry, Professor Snape! So very, very sorry!", he squeaked, his voice filled with fear.

"Snape?", she shot back. Had he lost his senses? …Or probably Severus had been standing right behind her all along, which would explain why she hadn't been able to see him before. Testing, Minerva turned her head, but all she saw were more frightened students.

When she faced Weasley again, a second emotion had spread over his face: Confusion. He blinked at her in bewilderment, as though she were the one who had gone mad. Looking at the other little faces, equally bemused, caused some really, _really _funny, no, _bad_ misgivings of what was going on, making her feel nauseous yet again.

Nevertheless, Minerva desperately tried to suffocate that premonition. That couldn't possibly be true, she could not… "Are you quite alright, Professor Snape?", a Fourth year Hufflepuff girl enquired, eying Minerva curiously. _This is impossible… I must have hit my head harder than I thought…!_

Desperately, Minerva threw a glance at her wand-hand. In the faint November light, it looked much paler and rougher than usually… Quite frankly, it didn't look like her hand at all! More like a man's hand, half-hidden in a plain, black sleeve.

She opened her mouth, raised her glance to answer the Hufflepuff, but no sound came out. In that moment, Minerva saw a tall, dark-haired witch rise on the other side of the courtyard, holding her head as if she were in quite a lot of pain. When their eyes met, she stared back at her in disbelieve. The woman was no other than herself, Minerva McGonagall.

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_Now, as I said, this is my first story, so I'd be very happy if you told me what you think of it.  
To be continued..._


	2. Love-advice on Lasagne-day

___Disclaimer:__ I do not own any of the characters or the settings in this story, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling_

_Thank you so very much for your reviews, everybody! I was really pleased to see that you liked to first chapter, so I hurried with the next one.  
It is rather late, so please forgive me any mistake I may have overlooked ;D_

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Severus Snape's head was pounding heavily; for a few dreadful seconds he even feared it might explode. The Potion Master was desperate to get up, but he couldn't move a single muscle without aching all over again. Racking pains prevented him from any further movement.

When a faraway sound reached his ear, he wondered whether he was hallucinating, no, _dying _even, for said noise sounded like his very own voice. How was that possible? He was lying on the bloody ground, unable to move and he was pretty sure not to have uttered a single word. So was this a sign of his approaching death?

The question was answered when he heard a second voice, mumbling some paltry excuse. A shaky voice it was, and it sounded suspiciously like… Weasley! Ronald bloody Weasley, that obnoxious little brat!

As the memories of that turnip's spell hitting him returned, Severus' body tensed, and a rush of cold fury hit him yet again. He cast his eyes open just to stare at some intimidated students bent over his motionless body. As he scowled at them, they backed away immediately, bumping into one another in the process.

When he was getting up ever so slowly trying to avoid any unnecessary pain, he could hear a few of his bones make rather disturbing cracking noises. _Oh, sweet Merlin, I feel like an old lady!_, he thought, holding his hand against his aching temples.

It was in this very moment that he caught the eyes of, well… himself. Standing on the other side of the courtyard, looking as shocked and baffled as he himself was feeling, was Severus Snape, Potion Master and Head of Slytherin. But how could this be if he clearly stood here, staring at himself? Was this one of those obscure out-of-body experiences Trelawney always kept waffling about?

No, for he felt his own hand touch his forehead. His incomprehensibly wrinkly forehead, that seemed to bear a strange resemblance to dry parchment. When he took the hand away from his front in order to examine it closely, it looked oddly blurry. Speaking of which, all of his immediate surroundings did. Slowly, it dawned on him what was going on…

"Your glasses, Professor McGonagall." Roger Davies, a Fourth year Ravenclaw who was all too sure of himself, was gleaming eagerly like a puppy dog at Severus while handing him Minvera's spectacles. _Bootlicker._

"And just about _what_ do you expect me to do with them, Davies?!", he spat venomously, thereby answering his own question for it was not his own, but his colleague's voice that came out of his mouth. _Oh crap… _

Davies looked baffled, but living up to the ideal of a witty Ravenclaw, he answered, obviously without thinking: "Put them on, I suppose. Or would you rather I ate them for lunch?"

"Mister Davies!", Snape heard his own voice bawl from across the courtyard. The other Snape –a fraud? Minerva?– had set into motion, heading towards Severus with bounding strides. "I will not allow you to speak to Professor McGonagall like this. Five points from Ravenclaw for disrespectful behaviour!" Then he added, facing that Weasley brat: "As for you, Mr. Weasley, we will talk about this… let's call it an _incident_, shall we?...later on. I expect to see you in my office tonight at eight o'clock. Don't grin like that, Mr. Malfoy, for this applies to you, too."

Meanwhile, the Fake Snape, who sounded suspiciously like Minerva, had arrived in front of Severus, and he was surprised to see that the fraud had about half a head on him. Crudely, the man packed Severus' wrist, hissing: "You, come with me!", dragging him along before he had a chance to react.

Phoney-Snape dispersed the crowd of students that had gathered in order to watch the spectacle by shooing them away to the Great Hall where lunch should be served by now, all the while heading in the opposing direction.

As soon as they had reached an empty hallway, Severus broke free. "Would you _possibly_ be so kind as to tell me what in Merlin's name is going on here?", he blurted out, but all he got as an answer was a mere "Huh…"

"_Huh!?_", he repeated incredulously. "Is that all you've got to say about this?"

Swirling around, Phoney-Snape now faced him. But instead of the furious look Severus had expected to see, the other one's face took on a sickly sweet smile, which looked more like an utterly grotesque grimace, really. In his most saccharine tone, the man chirruped: "No idea what's going on? You don't say!" Then, the fraud, well… _Minerva, _for it could be no other, hissed grimly: "I had hoped you could enlighten me, for I am, as I have to admit, perfectly clueless myself."

"No need to get huffy…", Severus stated as he watched his own body striding up and down the deserted hallway.

Scowling at him, Minerva snapped: "It bloody well is!" Her pitch-black robes were billowing behind her as she was still pacing back and forth. What an irritating habit of hers… Why couldn't she just stand still for a moment, giving him a chance to think this through logically? Instead, she muttered absentmindedly, more to herself than to him: "How could this have happened? What are we supposed to do? Is it permanent? Does it mean tha-"

"Oh stop it, will you!", Snape growled. "I can't concentrate while you're pacing up and down like a caged lion!"

Her nostrils flared dangerously, but she did as he had told her nevertheless, leaning against the stone wall. Minerva let out an exasperated sigh. She, well, Severus' body that is, looked defeated and exhausted, glooming about the incomprehensible thing that had happened. Sure, magic was nothing to be _understood, _but no matter how much he agonised what kind of spell could have hit them, he couldn't come up with anything.

Snape was positively sure that he had never encountered a similar jinx during his whole school carrier, left alone his second year! So how in the world could that foolish Weasley whose intellectual and magical competences were comparable to those of a stone have hexed them like that?

If it had been a swot like Granger, the mudblood who spent her days in the library, or someone like Malfoy, who had cut his teeth on dark curses…. But Weasley? That addle-brained, heavy-handed dunce Weasley?

Judging by the sombre look on his own pale face, he figured that Minerva did not know the spell either. "Well?", Severus broke the silence, flinching yet again as it was her voice that resounded with the cold stone walls.

She looked at him in a pretty irritated way, the black eyes gazing at him icily. "How would I know?", she finally answered crossly. That woman was about as helpful as any of Trelawney's predictions.

"I guess this is some kind of transfiguration?", he suggested, adding with a sneer on his face and a mocking tone in his voice: "And isn't that supposed to be your field of expertise, my highly esteemed colleague?"

"Cut it out, Snape", Minerva hissed, making a step in his direction. Then she explained, in a more matter-of-fact kind of voice: "Unless we're dealing with very dark magic, which isn't all that unlikely, I have no memory of stumbling across a transfiguration that turns you into someone else entirely." A short pause followed, during which both teachers reflected on what she had just said.

Smiling maliciously, McGonagall then asked sweetly: "But let's go back to that Dark Arts idea again, shall we? I trust you know a whole lot more about this subject than I do, or am I mistaken?"

Severus snorted, trying to think of an answer when all of a sudden, approaching footsteps and a soft, jolly melody reached his ear. "Dumbledore", Minerva hissed beside him when a long, dark shadow appeared at the end of the hallway. Seconds later, the Headmaster, wearing velvety, gold-star-spangled robes and brushing his long white beard, came around the corner, humming light-heartedly and… was he skipping?

When he saw them standing there, he called out merrily: "Hello, Minerva! Severus!"

"Headmaster", Severus mumbled in acknowledgement, sounding somewhat awkward.

"Albus!", Minerva replied in Snape's voice at the same time.

Dumbledore stopped dead, staring at them, both of his eyebrows arched. His bright blue eyes were twinkling in the oddest way, and if Snape had not known better, he'd have said there were mirth and wry amusement in the Headmaster's gaze. Then again… This was Albus Dumbledore, in what universe would he _not_ consider a dilemma of this sort entertaining?

But how could he possibly know? He had been in his office all morning, doing paperwork. At least, that was what he had announced during breakfast. And as they had not spoken but a single word each… But being Dumbledore, the wise old wizard who had known and taught them both from age eleven onwards, this might just about suffice.

Severus stiffened, and from the corner of his eye he saw Minerva tense up, her facial expression frozen as she asked as innocently as possible: "Is anything the matter, Sir?" All the while, she did her very best to imitate the Potion Master's sneering voice.

"Dear Merlin, I wonder what happened to the two of you", the old man chuckled. McGonagall's best effort had not been enough to fool the old crackpot. _What a surprise_, Severus thought sardonically, trying hard not to roll his eyes.

The corners of Albus' mouth were twitching as he attempted not to grin. Trying to be more serious, he then requested: "Take my arm, if you would" The tone of his voice did not leave any room for an argument, so they both did as he had told them without protest. With a loud CRACK they disappeared.

A spilt-second later, they appeared on the small path leading to Hogsmeade, just outside of Hogwarts. _Apparating on Hogwarts Grounds… Being the Headmaster sure does have its perks, _Severus thought. Apparition had never been his favourite form of travelling for he hated the squashing-sensation. Also, he always felt slightly sick afterwards.

Without hesitation, Albus set out towards the village, following the trail while avoiding the puddles of mud that were left of yesterday's showers.

Lifting his head to the steel-grey, cloud-covered sky, Snape felt rather sure that it was to rain again soon. The brisk November air smelled of approaching winter and wet leaves. It was not entirely unpleasant, though, for the crisp cool of the autumn breeze that brushed softly through the bare, greyish-brown branches felt reviving on his now parchment-like skin.

"Where are we going?", Minerva enquired as she kept up with the Headmaster, seemingly without the slightest effort.

Severus, however, was having a rather hard time: Although the legs he now was stuck with were long for a woman, they were not equipped with the same strength as a man's. What made matters even worse, much worse, were those bloody high-heeled shoes he now had to walk with. They might not have been particularly high for woman's shoes, but for him who was not accustomed to any heels at all, they were sheer stilts.

Floundering rather than walking, he followed them as they were proceeding towards the village of Hogsmeade.

"Is that a wise choice, Professor?", Severus called after them. "Won't we be overheard all too easily?"

Both Dumbledore and Minerva seemed to have forgotten that he was with them, too, for they came to a sudden halt and turned around to face him. As the Potion Master tried his very best to catch up with them, McGonagall's eyes narrowed impatiently. "Oh dear… Severus! Get a grip on yourself! You're staggering like a drunkard!"

"Why, was it me who chose to wear instruments of torture on my feet? I think my toes might be bleeding by now…", he answered huffily as he finally reached them. Minerva made sure he saw her role her eyes on him before she turned away, heading for the centre of the village once again.

He thought she mumbled something like "Stop being so whiny; that's a mere 2 inches, you could have done much worse" but her commentary was drowned out as Dumbledore raised his voice again: "No, I'm sure we will not be overheard, my dear _Minerva_." It was impossible not to hear the reminding emphasis he laid on her name.

"As it is around half past noon on a Thursday in early November, I am sure most people will be engaged otherwise, not finding the time to down some met at a local pub." Then, he added with a smirk: "Besides, as a wizard I might imagine you may be familiar with silencing spells?"

Albus was proved right shortly after: When they entered the _Three Broomsticks_, as packed as the pub was on Hogsmeade weekends, it was nearly deserted on that particular day. One or two tables were occupied all right, but all two of the three wizards were deeply engrossed in conversation whereas the third person, a witch of about 45 years of age who sat in a faraway corner, did not even notice them entering as she was concentrating on the parchments that were scattered on her table.

Madam Rosmerta welcomed them cheerily, however, and she exchanged a few words with the Headmaster before she guided the threesome to their own table, which was situated at the back of the pub.

Upon sitting down, Dumbledore asked for a pint of mead, all the while smiling politely. The landlady nodded before turning her head and looking at Severus expectantly.

"Firewhiskey", the man simply said. He really, really needed the strong drink now, for the shock of waking up in his colleague's body still gripped him to the marrow. He also wasn't sure just about how he was to survive this afternoon if Dumbledore was not to come up with a solution immediately.

Minerva, however, arched an eyebrow on him. "Are you quite _sure _you should be drinking now? You have got another two classes this afternoon…"

Grudgingly, he clenched his fist underneath the table where she wasn't able to see it. Bloody, overly correct McGonagall with her bloody, defeatist attitude… Why could she never ever let him have a _little_ fun?

"_Fine_", he hissed between clenched teeth, eying her furiously. "Butterbeer it is."

Minerva seemed satisfied with that answer, for she turned to Madam Rosmerta and said in honeyed tones: "I'd love some Firewhiskey, dear."

Grinning, Rosmerta nodded and went to fetch their drinks. As Severus felt his jawbone drop, literally, Minerva melded innocently: "What? I'm supposed to be you, remember? Also, your body can handle the alcohol much better than mine."

Snape turned to his superior for support, but Dumbledore just sat there, smiling faintly, misty-eyed as if his mind had trailed off somewhere else entirely. So Albus was woolgathering again… He was out of the picture; there was not assistance to be expected from him.

Just as Severus opened his mouth to argue with McGonagall, the landlady returned, caring an old-fashioned tablet with their drinks. When she set it down on the wooden surface of the table, thereby waking Albus from his reverie, she gave Minerva, well… Snape's body, actually, a sweet little smile. "There you go. Just…. call me if you need something. Anything."

She then left, and the Headmaster, who hadn't noticed a thing, reached for his drink and took a long sip. Nobody spoke as he set it down again, waiting for him to speak up.

Observing them closely, Albus' light blue eyes twinkled behind his half moon spectacles. After a few more minutes, the bearded wizard finally opened his mouth to speak, and Severus felt his heart pounding more rapidly with the nascent hope of returning to living his own life in his own body soon again.

"It had to be lasagne-day, hadn't it?"

Severus must have misunderstood him. There was no other explanation. Lasagne? Really? Was Dumbledore being serious? "_What?!_", he exclaimed in disbelief.

"Things like this always happen when there is lasagne for lunch. I never get to have any. Probably I should ask the house-elves to serve it more often…?", Albus sighed, almost disappointedly. Unbelievable as it was, that old fool wasn't even joking. Continuing his musing, as if he had forgotten the presence of the two teachers, he muttered: "But then again, what if there really _is_ a connection and more lasagne would mean that there were more incidents, too?"

Impatiently, Severus decided that it was time to bring the Headmaster down to earth: "Dumbledore, this is _serious_! How can you worry about _lasagne_?!", he said, sounding a little sulky.

Almost disappointed, Albus turned to face Minerva, who ran her pale fingers through the greasy black hair she now had to live with. When he spoke next, one might think that he honestly asked for her support on this trivial matter: "But you, you can see my concern, dear girl, can't you?"

"Although it pains me, I have to agree with Severus on this", she stated drily. "And don't call me 'dear girl', I'm seventy years old and currently stuck in a man's body!"

Dumbledore mumbled a mere "I understand" and for a moment he really did sound disappointed with her. Then, clearing his throat, he called upon Snape to elucidate just what had happened, and he man trapped in McGonagall's body did as requested.

With a small nod, Albus indicated that he had understood after Severus had finished.

Gazing into his drink absentmindedly, he remained silent for a few moments fraught with suspension. "Yes, yes, a very grave situation indeed", he murmured, more to himself than to the teachers. "And you have no idea what kind of jinx it was, I take it?"

Both shook their head. "Not the slightest."

"And you are positive that Ronald Weasley was not the one performing the spell?", Albus enquired.

They nodded in mutual consent. "Absolutely. A second year could not possibly have known such a complex, maybe even dark incantation", Minerva said decidedly.

"Now that I think of it…", Severus added. "His wand has been acting strange ever since the accident with that bloody Muggle car when the term was only about to start…"

Albus nodded, considering what they had said. Finally, he raised his eyes to face them again. "Well, until we find out more, it seems like you are –now how do I put this?– stuck with each other", he punned, tittering to himself while both teachers were staring at him in disbelief.

"Albus, you can't possibly be serious!" Minerva was the first to pull herself together. "If you are not able to help us, who is?" She had jumped to her feet excitedly, and Severus could see different feelings such as anger, desperation and reluctance flash over his own face.

He remained seated, supporting himself against the old oak table. "So what do you suggest we should do now?", he uttered in a resigned way.

What a hard day, his whole body was aching… And Minerva was by far not the youngest witch around, so how on earth did she work so hard and never seem tired at all? In contrast to some of the younger faculty members, namely Aurora and Septima, she had never dozed off during one of their late night staff meetings. How did she do that?

"You keep on teaching, I suppose, or is it a holiday you fancy?", Dumbledore answered, one of his eyebrows arched at Snape's question.

"Well, we can't keep teaching our own classes without having to tell everyone what has happened to us, now, can we?", Minerva snapped in an irritated fashion. Severus looked up to her and they exchanged a quick glance. No, she was right. He most definitely did not want every bloody person in this whole school to know what was the matter. They would never, ever stop teasing them; just imagine Pomona or Aurora! They would rather bite their left arm off that miss an opportunity as excellent as this one.

When they met Albus' gaze, he didn't even try to hide his amusement. "So what do you propose? Slip into each other's role, act as if you were the other person?" His eyes twinkled far too excitedly when he made this suggestion.

"This idea is absolutely and utterly–" Minerva, looking more than just revolted by this suggestion, never got to finish what she was about to say, for Severus interjected: "Brilliant!"

"Brilliant?", she repeated incredulously, "I hardly think so! Couldn't we just use Polyjuice Potion and go back to being ourselves?"

"My, my, dearest Minerva, what a shame! Your knowledge of the superior Art of Potion-Brewing seems severely limited for someone who is supposed to pass for a Potioneer." Severus was gloating. "Polyjuice Potion, my ignorant girl, takes about three weeks to brew, and I am afraid but I cannot wait for so long to get my own body back."

McGonagall's cheeks blazed pink with anger as she grumbled something rather incomprehensible –possibly more Scottish swearwords– before sinking down into her seat again and remarking snottily: "Though it is true that I may not be that skilled now, I was always rather good at it during my school years" (Snape coughed: "Centuries ago") "and besides, I don't recall _you_ being all that brilliant a student. Your Transfiguration grades were always average to poor, if I recall correctly."

With a superior grin, Severus announced: "Ah, true, but I have improved my skills considerably _after _graduating." Dumbledore nodded quietly in approval, though he seemed a little distracted: When did this thing turn into a contest? Things never ended well when the two of them started competing against each other. Albus watched them without saying a word, obviously torn between amusement and concern.

"As for teaching", Snape continued, "I recommend you stick to basic potions or… Just let them write essays. I don't want anyone to blow up my classroom, least of all you."

Minerva produced a sound that closely resembled a spitting cat. "Fine", she finally gave in, though her stare remained piercing and provoking, "I will do my best not to cause any major damage, but _only _as long as you do not mistreat my Gryffindors. Though I am very well aware of your aversion for everything scarlet and gold, you are from now on their Head of House and as such it is your duty to take good care of them. _Including _Harry Potter and every Weasley who is currently attending this school."

Although the mere though of being _nice_ or, at least, of pretending not to hate Gryffindors made him nauseous, Severus couldn't stand that vicious grin on Minerva's face. (Although it was, strictly speaking, his own face, but never mind that now.)

If that was what it took, fine. But he would certainly not let her win this thing.

Keeping his eyes glued on hers, he gripped the hand that she was holding out to him tightly and shook it hard to seal their agreement. "You've got yourself a deal, Minerva McGonagall."

Neither one wanted to be the one to tear their eyes away first, so they just sat there for a few tension-filled moments, until Dumbledore cleared his throat to speak again: "I believe some rules ought to be defined? We would not want you to ruin each other's reputations for the duration of this… role reversal?"

Severus glared at her for a little longer, before giving in to the Headmaster's unspoken demand for peace.

"Fine. Just… Don't do anything I wouldn't do myself, McGonagall", he muttered before lifting his butterbeer to his lips. The sweet drink tasted surprisingly… tolerable, tasty even. "And don't mess with my belongings. Try not to disarrange my office or my living quarters and _for Merlin's sake _don't be too bloody nice to Gryffindors." _And whatever you do, stay clear from the lowest drawer of my nightstand…_

But he would not speak that out loud for he did not want to put the idea into her head in the first place. Nevertheless, she stared at him somewhat oddly, all the while smiling faintly, almost as if she had understood. But this was absurd! For all he knew, Minerva's Legilimency skills were about as compelling as her talent as a Potioneer, meaning that she could not read his mind if her life depended on it. Next to him, she snorted inaudibly.

"I can do that. As for me, I guess I have made myself clear enough: be _fair _and do not mistreat any students. Other than that… "

She left her sentence hanging in midair, as if she were adding something mentally, too. As this had aroused his interest, Severus tried to use Legilimency to find out what it was, but somehow… He did not manage to penetrate her mind, though, no matter how hard he tried. A small, suspicious grin appeared on her lips.

Choosing to ignore her, Severus treated himself to another gulp of the strangely delicious, yellow liquid. As no one spoke up again, his eyes skimmed over the inside of the pub; the cosy furnishing and the wooden floor that squeaked when stepped on, the bar where the landlady was cleaning some glasses in an unperturbed manner, obviously unaware of their former conversation for Dumbledore really must have cast a silencing spell…

"You know, she _does_ seem to like you", Severus' own voice suddenly mumbled.

"What…?" He must have gazed at Rosmerta without noticing it, because Minerva was grinning teasingly when he turned his head.

Unimpressed by his faked confusion, she continued: "If you want me to, I could arrange a romantic little rendezvous for the two of you." Grinningly, she added: "Even if you might not have noticed yet, I am a woman too, you know, I know exactly what she wants to hear…"

"No, don't! Please don't talk to her!" Severus must have shaken his head a little too violently for her smirk broadened. Blushing slightly, he added: "I… I'm seeing someone. Sort of."

"Kinda-sorta unofficially-but-still dating someone, are you really?", Minerva chuckled far too amused, while she got to her feet.

"W-What are you doing?"

"I'm talking to her nevertheless. Don't look at me that way, I'm not setting you up for a date. I'd just like to make sure she knows that you're available if that kinda-sorta love interest of yours doesn't work out." Severus jumped up, too, but she had already crossed the room with a few big steps, leaning over the bar and talking to Rosmerta who laughed merrily. Resigning, he sank back into his chair. That woman could not be argued with…

When she came back a few minutes later, she looked like the cat that took the cream. Literally… Minerva's movements still bore some cat-like elegance when she was stuck in his body. "Mission successfully completed", she purred upon sitting down. "You're very welcome."

Severus rolled his eyes at her, but she just sipped her Firewhiskey contently. Dumbledore's eyes were dancing with mirth as he watched their exchange, though he decided not to intervene.

Setting her empty glass down with a thud, Minerva rose to her feet yet again. "That was lovely. But now I shall go and make some students cry, shan't I?"

* * *

_I would be delighted to know what you think of this chapter :D  
Well then, off to bed..._

tbc


	3. Potioneer Peeves' Participation

_Thank you very much for your comments, I really, really appreciate them! I also corrected the mistake you pointed out (thank you for that!) and a few others that I had overlooked.  
Anyways, hope you enjoy:_

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Minerva McGonagall had always hated the Dungeons.

When she had been a student, she had never come to this part of the castle but to attend Professor Slughorn's Potion class, which had definitely been one of her least favourite lessons. Only Devination had been worse, but that didn't really count anyways; she had dropped it after just one year.

When she had first started teaching at Hogwarts, she had walked those grim corridors even less frequently. Only on very rare occasions and after especially hard days had she found herself heading for the Kitchens, longing for the one thing that could always sooth her nerves: A hot, steaming cup of hot chocolate.

In her position as one of the Head of Houses, additionally to the duties that being Deputy Headmistress brought with it, she sometimes had to sort out one mess or another below ground floor. The Dungeons still gave her shivers, though.

Minerva had always found those sombre, cold stone walls intimidating and somehow, she managed to end up lost every single time she walked those narrow corridors. But in her defence, they _did_ all look the same, almost like a labyrinth.

To her, it was a true mystery how Slytherins could find their way and, more astonishing still, how they could endure living down here. There was only so much gloomy atmosphere she could take, and spending all her free time down here would make her depressive after a week or two, tops.

So how in the world was she supposed to pretend she belonged here if she got lost far too often? How was she to live in Snape's meticulously clean and frustratingly dreary living quarters if she was sure they would make her suicidal after a mere few days?

The Potion classroom was not much better. She had not seen the square-sized room very often since her graduation and as she let her gaze wander about the room slowly, Minerva did not get the feeling that she was missing out on much. The jars filled with pickled, slimy or indefinable creatures gave her goose bumps and the dusty vials full of glowing or bubbling liquids, some of which seemed to have flown through some creature's veins not too long ago, made her shiver.

And Snape lived and worked here. Voluntarily. Freak.

As cold shivers ran down her spine, Minerva decided that she'd rather watch the Sixth form Hufflepuffs write their essays about the Draught of Living Death than find herself staring at the huge eyes of a pickled toad any longer. Rather be bored than grossed out. Also, the dead animal made her think of that ugly Ministry-woman that she despised so much. What was the old hag's name? Umbridge?

Some of the students had been eying her suspiciously ever since she had entered the classroom a few minutes after the lesson had begun, but they seemed to be too afraid to speak up and ask whatever question was on their mind. _All the better_, Minerva thought, for it might have something to do with her absence during lunch and she did not find the excuse they had agreed upon quite satisfactory.

_"Why don't we just tell them that we discussed whether or not to expel Weasley and Malfoy?", Snape had asked exasperatedly. _

_"Because they all know bloody well that we don't _expel _students over just one fight!", Minerva had answered, equally annoyed. What a useless argument… _

_"Probably we should, though", Severus had retorted. "If it stopped them from behaving in such childish ways."_

_Glaring at him, Minerva had hissed: "That's because they _are _children! Merlin, Severus, you can't wander about expelling kids for being kids!"_

They had kept arguing like this for quite a while, until Albus had interrupted them.

_"I suggest you tell them that we were working on ways of preventing further violence concerning Quittich-related matters. As you may have noticed, a game is coming up and the students have gone nuts because of it… And some teachers have, as well." As he held her gaze, light blue eyes boring into her now black ones, Minerva knew exactly what he was referring too. _

_True, probably their little fight this morning really _had _gotten out of hand a bit… But it was all fun and games, and all three of them knew that. When Albus broke their eye contact to look at Severus in a similarly intense, almost reprehensive manner, she wondered whether he might actually have a point there. Probably it really _was _to a certain extent because of their rivalry that the contentions between their two Houses had grown more and more serious over the last few years…_

"Professor? Professor Snape?" The voice of Gabriel Truman, one of the prefects, brought her back to earth. His hand was raised and he seemed as if he had been trying to make her notice him for quite a while now.

"Yes, Mr. Truman? Do you have any questions concerning your essay?", Minerva said, trying to imitate Severus' condescending tone as she glared at him icily.

The Hufflepuff's cheeks had flushed and Minerva was pretty sure she knew already what was about to come. "Not really, no… In fact, Professor… We were all wondering if there has been come kind of incident? The absence of not one but three Professors during lunch has been troubling quite a few students…"

Although his classmates were still bent over their essays, it was obvious that they were listening for all of them had stopped scribbling. Minerva knew exactly what they wanted to hear: After their dramatic departure after Weasley's spell had hit them and Goldilocks spreading the news about their duel in the morning, every student had to be hoping for juicy details about Dumbledore reprimanding them.

"This is none of your business, Truman!", she answered rudely. For a moment she wondered if she should tell them the excuse they had agreed on, but she figured this wasn't something Snape was likely to do. "Go back to your essays, all of you."

Another student, Lorelai Sullivan, raised her hand nevertheless. "Professor Snape-"

"No further questions", Minerva stated drily and pretended to go back to correcting 4th years' homework.

When she looked up a few minutes later, the girl's hand was still up in the air. "What have I just told you, Miss Sullivan?", Minerva snapped. Were Hufflepuffs not supposed to be obedient and well-behaved?

"But Professor-", the girl with the russet corkscrew curls tried again, only to be interrupted by her teacher: "If you open your mouth one more time, Sullivan, I will personally see to it that Hufflepuff loses enough points to kiss your scant chance of winning the House Trophy goodbye. Have I made myself clear?"

With a little bit of surprise she noticed that her voice did not shake once during her entire rebuke. As she forced herself to glare at Lorelai, who unfortunately happened to be a very sweet and upright girl, the student's eyes widened with fear. Slowly did she let her hand sink and returned to her essay.

Though Minerva believed in discipline and respect more than any other Hogwarts teacher, threatening the poor girl like this was against everything she stood for. But ignoring the overwhelming reluctance she felt, Minerva knew that it was probably the most Snape-ish thing to do in this situation.

Letting out a small sigh that went unnoticed by the now frantically scribbling Hufflepuffs, Minerva returned to marking the staple of Transfiguration homework which she had bewitched to look like Potion essays to everyone passing by.

For about five minutes, everybody worked silently. Then, a loud blasting sound made everybody jump in alarm.

"What in Merlin's name…" Minerva had gotten to her feet, scanning the room, her eyes narrowed to slits. How was this even possible? Had she not told the students to work on theory rather than actually brew potions in order to _avoid_ any possible explosions? Where in the world did this boom come from?

As she lowered her gaze, the teacher saw suspicious pink smoke spreading in the classroom ever so slowly. Judging by the expansion it had reached, it must have been visible for a few minutes at least.

"Why didn't anybody warn me?!", she spat as she tried to spot what or who was emitting those fumes.

"Lorry tried to tell you several times", Trueman choked. "But you wouldn't let her."

In response, Minerva glared at him. That was about the last thing she had wanted to hear. As she felt her Scottish temper rising up, she decided it was for the best to just send the students away rather than scream at them some more. Severus, for all she knew, was not the most pleasant company one could wish for, but the man had a much better grip on himself than she did.

"Class dismissed", Minerva said frostily, turning away from her students as she discovered the source of the pink smoke to be in the backroom that could only be reached by passing through the classroom first. So how on earth…? "Oh, and Trueman", she added as he was about to leave the room. "10 points from Hufflepuff for insulting a Professor."

As he left the room for good, she fancied to hear him curse under his breath. "_Professor_… Yeah, right…" A small grin appeared on her lips, and she decided to ignore his remark just for having insulted the Head of Slytherin.

Minerva burst the wooden door of the backroom open, coughing violently as a cloud of pink smoke flew right in her face. Her eyes were stinging as she frantically tried to make out what in Merlin's name had caused this mess. Blinded by the fume, she had to rely more on what her ears perceived, and it surely wasn't encouraging: suspicious bubbling came from where she though the centre of the small room had to be situated, additionally to cackling she knew far too well.

"Peeves!", McGonagall screamed lividly, suddenly remembering that she was in possession of a wand. With a quick movement, she drew it and all the fumes were sucked into the tip of her wand within a minute.

The poltergeist was floating over a copper cauldron that continued to belch pinkish smoke as he dropped a bat's wing in the mixture, all the while singing merrily:

_"Peevsie brews mischief so pulpy,_

_Uses bats and grease and slime,_

_Students all take one big gulpy;_

_Mess created, so sublime!_

_Snapey-Snape's not gonna likey,_

_Peevsie's having a good time!"_

"PEEVES!", she bawled as he opened yet another jar of what looked suspiciously like toad's eyes. Minerva could hear her stomach rumble as a slight feeling of nausea hit her. "Get down here, right now!"

But Minerva could shout and scream all she wanted, Peeves just kept singing and adding ingredients to his soup.

The poltergeist had never been easy to handle, she was very well aware of that, but usually he at least had the curtsey as to so much as flinch when she was raging against him. When Minerva McGonagall was raging, anyways. He seemed to have much less respect of Severus Snape.

"Peeves, I'll go and get the Bloody Baron, I mean it!", she found herself threatening him, but the ghost did not even look at her while pouring a bright-green liquid in the cauldron. He kept grinning, though, snickering nastily: "The Bloody Baron's not even here! Up high, high up in Ravenclaw-tower he is, scaring the poop out of little scaredy-pants pooping their panties!"

The paste sizzled curiously as he added some gillyweed and fizzled queerly as he emptied a whole pot full of what looked (and smelled) like dragon's dung over the mixture.

"Stop this idiocy of yours right this moment or I swear I'll-" Minerva never got to finish her sentence for Peeves started cackling madly as a big, flubberworm-coloured bubble was forming in the paste-like thing he was brewing. The bubble kept swelling dangerously, it grew bigger and bigger until…

"Uh-oh", Peeves blurted out, and the next second he had vanished into thin air. Not a moment too soon, for the very next second the bubble _–BOOM!– _exploded, expectorating ill-coloured mucus on everything –and everyone– within the small backroom.

As Minerva, who had found herself covered from tip to toe in the disgusting slimy substance, rushed through the corridors, she decided grudgingly to leave the cleaning to the 4th year Slytherins and Ravenclaws she was to teach next. After having muttered a few "Scourgify"s that made her robes and hair look fairly decent (as decent as possible considering the fact that the body in question was Snape's), she was now heading to the teacher's lounge. Minerva found that on days like this, days that grew more and more terrible with each hour that passed, a steaming cup of tea was the only thing that would keep her going.

As she reached the staff room, a rather odd spectacle was taking place, though it surprised her far less than it should have. Over the last few months, Goldilocks standing on the long oak table, striking a heroic pose, had become a far too common sight.

Her first instinct was to head straight to Pomona in order to ask her what he was up to this time, but then she remembered that the Head of Hufflepuff might not be Severus' closest confidant in the room. Who was, though? The more she thought about it, the more Minerva realised that she was not sure if her colleague was friends with any of the other teachers at all.

Finally, she chose to simply talk to Filius Flitwick, for the small teacher was always friendly and polite and he was quite popular with everybody. Coming to a halt next to him, she asked in a whisper what was going on.

"Goldilocks has just declared that his Patronus is a unicorne…", Filius muttered distractedly, not finishing his sentence because, as Minerva was perfectly aware of, he was too much of a gentleman to say out loud what he really thought: _…though I highly doubt he can produce one at all._

"Is that even possible?", Aurora, who had just entered the room, asked with a frown. They all watched Goldilocks who was talking animatedly about his great deeds and adventures, gesticulating wildly to 'round out the illusion', as he used to call it. Sybill and Septima were hanging on every word he said, the former with an expression of pure awe in her face, the latter obviously torn between his oh-so-blue eyes and the rubbish coming out of his mouth.

A voice Minerva knew all too well answered. "Although it is rather rare for Patronuses to take the form of a magical creature, it does happen from time to time. Also, contrary to your scepticism, my wrongfully doubting colleagues, I can definitely see the link between our dearly beloved Goldilocks and his fictional Patronus, a gay horse", her own voice deadpanned.

Snape had come up behind them, and as Minerva bit her lips in order to avoid hysterical laughter, he was eying her suspiciously. Curling his lips, he added then: "Did you dunk your head into chocolate pudding or what is that… that _stuff _behind your ear?"

McGonagall let out a sigh as she wiped the remains of the poltergeist's exploding potion away. "Peeves", she muttered as she shot Severus a glance that implied that she would explain later. She really did not feel like talking about that dreadful day of hers.

Although he obviously wasn't very pleased, the man did not seem in the mood to argue. Judging by the look on his face, his first Transfiguration class had not gone by uneventfully either. Questioningly, she arched an eyebrow, but he gave her the very same look.

"What is it with the two of you?", Aurora's voice suddenly interrupted their wordless conversation. A hint of amusement lay in the twinkle of her chocolate brown eyes as she scrutinised them closely. "You seem awfully peaceful… Shouldn't you be hexing each other into oblivion?"

While Minerva glared at her, Severus opened his mouth to protest, but he never got to do so. Goldilocks had registered their presence and he headed towards them, gleaming at them with pleasure. _Blimey! Too late to hide… or run, _Minerva thought.

"Severus, how lovely seeing you here", the blond wizard cried out in joy. "I bet you've been listening to my anecdotes all too raptly, haven't you?"

In response, Minerva snorted: "Firstly, this is the teacher's lounge, where else would I spend my breaks? And secondly, I would rather be stabbed by a unicorn than watch you conjure one up."

Strangely, Goldilocks didn't look offended in any way; he didn't even seem to take her seriously, for Merlin's sake! Instead, an understanding smile appeared on the man's lips as he whispered: "Well, someone certainly is pretty morose today, aren't we, my dear chap?" To cap it all, he even had the cheek to _wink _at her!

What in Merlin's name was _that_ supposed to mean? As she turned accusingly to face Severus, the man's waspish gaze was fixed on Goldilocks, and it was fair to say that he was positively _fuming_. What Minerva saw in her own green, cat-like eyes was pure hatred and she finally understood why people were cowed by her death-stare.

"Shut it, Lockhart", she hissed as she turned away from Severus, thrusting Goldilocks aside carelessly as she dashed over to the small coffee table where all of their mugs were standing. Reaching for hers, she suddenly remembered and froze in mid-motion, grabbing Severus' cup instead.

Pomona, who was standing next to her, blinked at Minerva in confusion, but she didn't say a word as the other witch filled the mug with a flick of her wand. "Always trouble with Goldilocks… Why couldn't the Cornish Pixies have picked him up by the ears and dragged him far away to, say, Antarctica…?" Minerva let out an exasperated sigh. "Probably I should release some of them in his living quarters? If I was lucky, they might drum him out of here for good…"

Her words earned her a sympathetic grin from Pomona.

"Well then… A mess that requires urgent cleaning is awaiting me in my dearly beloved Dungeons…", she groaned finally and downing her tea in one, she set out rather lacking in motivation.

As she passed Severus, she whispered: "I reckon Harry Potter's in your next class?"

His grim look spoke more than a thousand words. Smiling faintly, Minerva breathed: "Good luck!" _…you will both need it!_

* * *

_Tbc... _


	4. Tea with the Ladies

___Disclaimer:__ I do not own any of the characters or the settings in this story, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling_

_Hey, I'm back. This update took me way longer than expected, but the last two weeks have been rather busy.  
Also, the chapter are much longer than I intended, so I will post it in two separate parts -one today, the other won't be long.  
By the way, last weekend (26./27. of January) I changed the second chapter a bit since I was not quite happy with it. You may want to reread it, but you don't have to for it won't really affect any later chapters._

_That being said, I wish you much fun and hope you enjoy!_

* * *

"Today, you will transform Flobberworms into rings", Severus announced as he entered Minerva's classroom, banging the door shut behind him.

Several second years, particularly girls, shuddered with disgust, but he continued nevertheless: "Now, the major difficulty of this particular Transfiguration lies in shaping the worm, a living, breathing creature, into such cold, dead material as rings are made of. Take silver or gold; brittle, wrought metals."

As he arrived next to Minerva's desk, he spun around in order to face the students. Immediately, his eyes fell on Potter and his little friends, all of which sat in the third row, in the middle of the room.

Snape had to concentrate very hard to keep his temper. The features of the boy's face, so very much like his father's, aroused hatred in him whenever he saw them. Deep-rooted, virulent hatred that he had borne for decades and Severus was sure not to let go of it anytime soon. But then again… Those bright green eyes, Lily's eyes…

Trying hard to push all of those feeling aside, Snape conjured a box of Flobberworms. "Longbottom", he then called on the chubby-faced boy. "Hand those out, will you?"

Nodding and mumbling something like "Yes, Professor McGonagall", Neville got up immediately, completely without a single flash of the reluctance Severus was used to from his own Potion lessons; Minerva certainly had her students under control, that much was safe to say.

It was easy to see that he was not too keen on touching the worms, but he reached into the box and placed one in front of each of his classmates without the slightest protest.

As soon as he had seated himself once more, Severus drew a sharp breath. "Alright. Watch closely, everyone."

With those words and a swish of his wand, the small creature on his own desk turned into filigree jewellery in the blink of an eye. As the students gaped at him with expressions of pure awe on their faces, he put the silver ring with the sparkling emerald leaves on his finger, announcing: "Bonus points if your ring looks nice."

McGonagall was a woman. Surely, she would attach value to such trivial things as the prettiness of a piece of a metal.

"What are you waiting for? Begin!"

Although he remembered her sitting behind her desk, watching her students with narrowed, vigilant eyes or correcting long roles of parchment all hour, shaking her head wearily and uttering under her breath, Snape found himself unable to imitate her and sit still during that particular class. That technique had worked perfectly fine with the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Fourth-graders he had taught the previous hour, but this was different…

Pacing around restlessly, he looked over several people's shoulders while they were trying to accomplish the task. The students in question tensed visibly as he watched them, but they did so reverently rather than anxiously which felt relatively new for Severus.

Whenever he passed Granger, he reluctantly awarded her a Housepoint for she was always able to present a new, shining ring to him. Some were even decorated with subtle gold ornaments whereas others were jewelled.

Giving her points was hard enough; after all, he thereby added to Gryffindor's chances of beating his very own House, and he also was well known for not having awarded a single point to a lion in about ten years. But what was worse, much worse, was faking that sickeningly encouraging smile while cooing her oh-so-marvellous work. Merlin, being nice to her was _hard_! So after having suffered _that_ agony four times, he made sure to avoid passing by Hermione's table.

As his eyes fell on Potter, the rage boiled up again. Oh, how very much he loathed that brat… He was just as arrogant and smug as his father, all the limelight hog he had been, though nobody seemed to notice. But how could they, being as busy fawning on him as they were.

Severus' piercing gaze burned into the boy's back which didn't seem to go unnoticed by him: Harry looked up from his task, glancing around with confusion. How wonderful it would be to jinx him, to make him pay for all he and his bloody father had ever done to Severus…

Suddenly, it dawned on him: He now acted as Potter's Head of House! This opened up a whole new lot of possibilities… Had he never been in the position to expel him, he could do so now! Had McGonagall's call been the final one, it was now his decision that counted in the end! It would be so easy to just… But no, he had promised not to torment the boy for the time being…

_Oh, screw you, McGonagall!_, he thought before saying crisply: "Mr. Potter?"

The Potter offspring, smiling innocently, turned to face him, but Severus knew better; that good-little-boy-image was just a mask, and underneath he was just as wicked and vicious as his father had been. But he could play that game, too. With a sweet smile he chirruped: "Would you kindly stop staring at poor Ms. Patil and concentrate on your work instead?"

"But Professor, I didn't-", the little brat tried to protest, only to be cut off by his teacher.

"See, I know that dreamy, enamoured gaze and I understand that you must be going through a very hard time. It is never easy once the hormones kick in –believe me, I am aware of your confusion", Severus said with his most understanding voice.

A wave of embarrassment went through the classroom as students shifted in their chairs uncomfortably. Everyone's eyes were fixed on either Parvati Patil, who had blushed visibly despite the relatively dark shade of her skin, and Harry, who had sunk deeper into his chair and looked like he wished the ground would open and swallow him up.

"Professor, I really didn't…", he tried yet again.

"No, Potter, there is no need to be ashamed. What you feel and think is only natural once you have hit puberty…"

"Oh dear Merlin, she isn't going to talk about the birds and the bees, is she?", Dean Thomas groaned with exasperation. Several students, like Lavender Brown or Ron Weasley, had turned scarlet and looked down at their tables in embarrassment.

Seamus Finnigan, however, just gave him a confused look. "What's that with birds 'n' bees?" Yet again, Severus was surprised with their utter innocence, but he didn't let it on.

"…and you should not feel the need to deny it. I cannot accept, however, that you fantasise about Ms. Patil during my class." Severus said decidedly, having had yet another brilliant idea.

"I really haven't-", Potter stuttered, not daring to look at Parvati who had flushed as red as Weasley's hair. Sure she would give him hell for getting her into that uncomfortable situation –but only after she had clamed down.

Meanwhile, Severus had walked over to Potter's desk, and casting a non-verbal spell at once of the boy's parchments, he then reached for exactly this piece of paper.

"'_Dear Parvati,'_", he read. "'_Your hair's black like Snape's, I heard you like grapes, why can't we be mates? My heart beats for you, hope you feel it too, you're my Parsi-boo!' _I'm sorry Potter, but that's just sad!"

Harry looked like he wanted to protest violently, but he only managed to squeak helplessly: "I didn't write that…!"

"Also, there are quite a lot of hearts and rather… inappropriate drawings to go with it", Severus stated with a frown. "I'm sorry, Potter, but I'm afraid I'll have to confiscate this."

Stuffing the parchment into the pocket of Minerva's skirt, he returned to her desk, allowing a smirk of satisfaction to touch his lips while being turned away from the students. Upon sitting down, he gleefully inspected the effects of him publically humiliating Potter; every student had blushed at least a little bit and everyone was working silently, bent over their tables in order to avoid the others' gaze.

He would most certainly pay for that later, but it was completely worth it. Also, Snape had to admit, this was, by far, more discrete and therefore effective than openly harassing the boy and it would most certainly have quite an impact on him and his classmates.

Distractedly, he began fidgeting with some papers that were scattered on the desk. When Severus' eyes fell onto one particular scrap of parchment, though, he froze in mid-motion.

As if written by an invisible hand, words appeared on the sheet. Glowing in a deep, emerald colour that contrasted the creamy shade of the paper, the letters formed these words: _So have you deprived my Gryffindors of all of their points already, or is there still a chance we win this year's House Trophy?_

Although he recognised the cursive, elegant handwriting within a second, it took him much longer than he could be proud of to figure out what was going on. With a smirk that went unnoticed by the students, he then grabbed a quill and scribbled on the same piece of paper:

_As a matter of fact, I have conceded them a few points rather than taking them away, but either way, there is no way in hell you'll win this thing._

After having written down his answer, he let his eyes wander about the classroom again. To his great disappointment, both Potter and Weasley were still working silently, leaving him with no chance to punish them in any way.

How could he possibly have been so clueless about what was going on? When he had still been a student, the Nuntius-charm had been a popular and rather discreet way of passing notes to peers during class; he himself had only been able to endure _History of Magic _because of "Nutium tradere". Lily and he had been writing the whole hour, and Binns had never noticed. Of course, they could have been shouting and he wouldn't have interrupted his lectures, but this way they had felt much sneakier when they were still 12 years old.

_What!? You have _awarded _points to Gryffindor? Are you quite sure you shouldn't let Poppy have a look at you?_

A small smile played around the corners of Severus' mouth. In a way, students had been much cleverer and a good deal more inventive back in his day; today's youth was whispering or passing notes by hand, and both techniques were easily detected. How could the good, old Nuntius-charm have sunken into oblivion?

_How utterly amusing. Laugh all you like, McGonagall, but don't you dare tell anyone or I shall controvert this statement with all my might._

Upon catching himself looking for a reason to deduct Housepoints from Potter for the third time in the last ten minutes, Severus decided that he _desperately_ needed a distraction. But as it turned out, focusing on Lavender Brown instead did not really help his cause, for she was going about the task so very clumsily that Severus felt the urge to transfigurate the girl into a ring herself.

But no, she might even _like_ it, for Merlin's sake! The girl was about as shallow as can be and Snape could imagine her leading an all too happy existence as a brilliant piece of jewellery on the chubby finger of some fat, arrogant pure-blood lady.

"Merlin, I can't watch you any longer", he finally snarled at her as he set out towards her table. The blonde flinched in alarm, as did half of the class. "Look, Brown… The secret lies in the circular motion. As you speak the incantation, you must draw an orbital with your wand, as if you were to actually work the worm into that particular shape."

At first, the girl with the dirty blonde hair had seemed startled and somewhat frightened, but as she raised her eyes, she beamed up at him gratefully. "Thank you so much, Professor."

Confused, Severus answered with a short nod. No matter how hard he concentrated, he could not think of a single time a student had thanked him for snapping at them.

As he turned back to the desk to see whether Minerva had answered, Granger's arm that had shot into the air came into view. Usually, he would not have paid her much attention, well… He would have ignored her. But the state he was in today could hardly be referred to as '_usual'_.

"Yes, Miss Granger?", he called on her, and yes, he even _listened _as she complained about being underemployed. The silly, far too ambitious girl completely missed out on the whole class groaning and rolling their eyes at her.

"Fine", Snape said calmly, ignoring the other pupils' irritated huffing. Most of them had managed to produce at least one ring-shaped piece of metal anyways. "Those of you who have successfully accomplished the first task may move on to transforming spiders into brooches."

Patil and Brown blatantly let out shrieks of disgust, but none of their reactions could be compared to Weasley's: Ronald paled visibly, the rosy colour drained from his cheeks and his expression grew terrified. His eyeballs almost seemed close to popping out and his lower lip was trembling when he stuttered:

"S-Spiders?"

Fascinating… So that was the redhead's soft spot? Good to know. Severus made a mental note to concentrate on teaching potions that required at least one spider-related ingredient.

"Yes, Weasley, _spiders_. Small, eight-eyed creatures with immense importance to the Wizarding World due to their superb magic qualities. What are you, a wizards or a sissy?", the stated drily, and although he knew he should do his best to look the stern Transfiguration Professor, he could not completely ban the gloating from his eyes. "Or would you rather I let you practise with a fully grown Acrumantula?"

Weasley did not respond; he just closed his mouth that had been standing slightly open and gaped at the eight-legged creature that Longbottom had placed on his table.

This new task, however, posed even more problems than the first one, and Severus found himself running from one student's desk to the next one. Luckily, there were no major accidents as there had been in his earlier lesson; no hair was set on fire, no nose vanished, he even managed to survive the class without an ostrich apparating in his classroom, for Merlin's sake!

Once, Seamus Finnigan came dangerously close to transforming Dean Thomas, who was sitting next to him, into a giant earthworm and Severus, though usually he would have paid good money to see this, prevented it. Nevertheless, he could not help but cackle silently when Parvati Patil barked like a Terrier after a spell had hit her.

The class kept Snape rather busy, so he did not get a chance to look at Minerva's reply until after the students had left.

_I would not dream of it, Severus. Anyways, before I forget: I meant to inform you earlier, but I have to admit that Goldilocks got me distracted. After class, you are to head straight to my private chambers for Pomona and Poppy are supposed to join me for tea.  
Since I highly doubt you have been there before: My living quarters are located on the first floor, behind a portrait of Godric Gryffindor; my password is "Montrose Magpies".  
Have fun and _in the name of Merlin's tartan underpants_, don't embarrass me in front of the girls!_

That statement was not once, not twice, but _thrice _ridiculous:

Firstly, Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout were anything but cute little girls; they were both old enough to be his mother, they had already been part of the Hogwarts furniture when he had still been a student and during the last decade he had spent working alongside them, they had proven their sharp tongue and their caustic yet delightful (when directed at anyone but him) humour quite a few times. Well, Pomona had. Poppy was too much of a lady to taunt him openly, but she had a subtle sarcastic wit to her person that was about equally entertaining.

Secondly, solely Minerva McGonagall could have suggested Merlin's knickers to be tartan. Bloody stubborn Scots… After all, everybody _knew _they were heart-patterned. Duh.

Ultimately, this was just so cliché! Of _course _her private chambers would be guarded by no less a figure than Godric Gryffindor himself. Of _course_ she would use her favourite (Scotish) Quidditch team as a password.

Severus rolled his eyes. Sometimes, Minvera could be so ver- Wait a moment.

Had she been serious about the two ladies visiting?

Incredulously, Snape read and re-read what she had written. How could she do that to him? Leaving him to chat and have tea with the two of them, exchanging pleasantries and –heaven forbid!– discussing fashion or men or other women's themes was like throwing him to the wolves!

_You'll pay for this, McGonagall!_, Severus thought grudgingly as he shoved the piece of parchment into the pocket of her skirt and reluctantly got moving.

When he had found the portrait of the Founder, the Gryffindor engaged him in light chitchat for a while before the picture swung aside to let him enter without asking for the password. Once inside, Severus drew a few deep breaths; what a very, very tiring day.

Neither had he gotten used to the creepy cracking-noise his bones made at his very move, nor to the constant, dull pain in his limbs. Also, walking in high-heeled boots was an art he was sure he would never truly master.

_Right, the tea… _

Having no idea what Minerva's house elf was named, he simply clicked his fingers; a second later, a loud crack filled the room, and a small creature beamed up at him eagerly. "Mistress has called? What can Quinny do for Mistress?"

Severus looked at the house elf for a moment before answering: "Well, Quinny, as a matter of fact I am expecting Pomf- err, Poppy and Pomona for tea, so-"

Grinning broadly, the elf indicated a small coffee table in front of the fireplace on which a tray with three flowery cups, a similarly patterned teapot and a flower-rimmed, white plate with various biscuits was placed. In the chimney, a warming and welcoming fire was flickering merrily, drenching the whole room in glowing red light.

"I see. Thank you, Quinny", Severus muttered. Huh. That hen party seemed to be a regular thing. With a sudden inspiration, he then added: "Oh, and would you kindly inform Professor Snape that Professor Lockhart is searching for him? Or better still – Tell Lockhart that _Severus _desperately wants to speak to him!"

Albeit confused, the house elf nodded and disappeared. Smiling mischievously, Severus looked out of the window – the sky had grown darker yet again, for it had started raining a few seconds ago. Currently, rain was pouring down heavily, whipping against the windowpanes.

Nevertheless, Snape fancied spotting dark shapes flying through the uprising storm; drawing closer to his window, he figured it must be either the Gryffindor or the Slytherin Quidditch team practising despite the horrible weather. Under the dark, angry sky, the players were racing through the rain in a blur that made it impossible to guess the colours of their capes; but one need not be a talented seer to know that the students, whatever team it may be, were soaked to the bone. Severus shook his head slowly; all that enthusiasm and ambition was quite admirable, though plainly foolish.

"What are you scowling at, Min?", he suddenly heard the familiar voice of Pomona, who must have entered without him noticing, from behind.

Severus tried his best to imitate Minerva's stern, disapproving glance that he himself had feared in his school years before turning around to face her. "They're practising!", he stated the obvious. "Now. With that storm going on outside."

"Min! Don't you act all responsible and adult-like all the time", Pomona whined as she plonked herself down on the sofa in front of the fireplace.

"In case it has slipped your mind, I _am _a responsible adult", Snape hissed, but there lay a spark of amusement in his eyes and his lips were curling slightly.

The small, plump woman let out a laugh. "Oh, stop being so hypocritical. You were like that, too."

Severus could not help arching an eyebrow at that commentary. Minerva had been a Quidditch player? Really? How come he had never known?

Fortunately, Pomona seemed to interpret his surprise as an admonition that was supposed to shut her up. "My, my, aren't we touchy today?", she said with what she must consider a sympathetic smile. "Has Goldilocks crossed you yet again?"

"He certainly got _me_ into a fret", Poppy fussed as she stepped through the portrait hole and settled herself into the comfortable-looking armchair next to the couch.

"Why, it's nice seeing you, too", Sprout greeted her with a smirk. "Tea?"

The women had already helped themselves to a steaming cup and some biscuits when Snape reached them and slowly sank into the soft, red sofa next to Pomona. So far, so good. Probably he should just lay low and speak only when addressed directly until they left. Or he might fake an emergency to get out of there?

"Anyways… I was in the hospital wing today-"

"You don't say!", the podgy woman interjected, but Pomfrey just rolled her eyes and continued.

"Well, I was treating McLaggen, who hit himself with a permanent hiccup-spell during lunch, when Goldilocks stormed in; must have gotten high on his magic mushrooms again because he was convinced that he was not only the school's overly qualified and universally adored Defence-Professor, but also the best Healer there is between here and Wonderland." Pomona let out a snicker, and Snape had a hard time restraining himself from laughing, too. "So he pushed me aside to 'have a good look at the promising young man' before inspecting him as if he were Sherlock Holmes –dear Merlin, all he was lacking was a bloody magnifying glass!"

"Who's Sherlock Holmes?", the Herbology Professor asked in confusion. It was Severus who answered absentmindedly, indicating Poppy to continue with her story: "A fictional muggle detective."

The Healer eyed her friends in irritation, but went on nevertheless: "Then, Goldilocks shouted 'Eureka!' –I'm serious! He _did _actually shout _Eureka_!– 'I know what is the matter with our dear youngster!' It was only a failed hiccup-spell, for Merlin's sake! By that time, I was fuming, but I tried my very best not to let it on. So Goldilocks, who must have believed me clueless, went on with that smug phiz of his-"

For a second, both women looked at Severus like they were expecting him to protest, but Snape wouldn't even dream of it; watching the always friendly and polite School Matron badmouth Goldilocks was just too good to miss!

"-and said with an air of consequence and his gravest voice: 'Mr McLaggen here is afflicted with a very serious magical malady called _obsessio muci syticus colloseum nasum pituitosum_ or short: _OMuSCoNaP'-_" Suddenly, Poppy burst out laughing, unable to contain herself. Tears were streaming down her cheeks that had taken on a glowing rosy colour.

Pomona and Severus exchanged a very confused glance. What in Merlin's name had gotten into her? He had never seen the nurse that way before; usually, she was smiling at him benignly. To be honest, he had been caught by surprise by her speaking badly of a member of the Hogwarts staff, but this laughing fit took the biscuit.

"Poppy, dear? Are you alright?", Pomona enquired with concern whereas Severus frowned at Pomfrey who was cackling like a madwoman.

The poor nurse tried to answer several times, but everything that came out was more choked laughter.

When she had finally calmed down enough to speak, she did so with a fake-grave voice and the sternest look she could manage.

"Oh, no, don't get me wrong", she said. "_Obsessio muci syticus colloseum nasum pituitosum_ is a very serious disease alright; that is, if you've got fiery breath and scaly skin!"

"WHAT!?", both Pomona and Severus exclaimed simultaneously.

Whipping a tear from her cheek, Poppy continued, obviously rather pleased with their reactions: "You've heard me. _OMuSCoNaP_ is a dragon disease that does not affect humans in the least. Oh, and it roughly translates to bogey-clogged conk."

Now it was for Sprout and Snape to burst out laughing, and Poppy joined in a short second after. Things just got funnier when Pomona, in a new laughing fit, fell off the sofa and ended up rolling on the floor with laughter, literally. Severus pointed at her cheerfully, and as she grabbed his hand and pulled him down with her, he couldn't even sulk; forgotten was his usual sneering and icy demeanour, forgotten was the pain of being Minerva and keeping up either her or his reputation. For this moment, as he was lying on the floor with her two of her best friends, he was just enjoying himself. And, as he would not remark until much later, it was also the first time he had laughed in such a carefree and happy way ever since he had lost Lily.

It took the three of them about ten whole minutes to calm down again. Only when they all sat up straight, having smoothened their robes and returned to such serious and dignified facial expressions as were appropriate for three women in their sixties or seventies who were supposed to be looked up to by their students, only then did Poppy allow to let another smirk touch her lips.

"Heaven forbid I let _that _clown near the hospital wing again!"

* * *

_As previously announced, the next update will be up shortly for I'm almost done with it. I would be delighted to know what you think of the chapter!_

_tbc..._


	5. Malicious Masterplan

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own any of the characters or the settings in this story, it all belongs to J. ._

_As promised, this chapter didn't take me that long, which is mostly because it's part two of the far-too-long chapter I split into what is now ch. 4&5. _

_I wanted this chapter to start out a little differently because I thought it would be nice to have somebody else's thought on them acting weird, too._

_Although I initially intended to keep everything as canon as possible, it turns out that this is a rather hard thing to do in a character-switch... Severus is supposed to talk like Minerva publicly, but think like himself and act like her but also like him and vice versa and- Argh, this is getting quiet confusing... So what I intend to say is that this story is kind of developing a life on it's own, and since everyone seems to be OOC quite a lot, I suppose it might be turning into a crack-fic after all...  
Well, it would be pretty nice to have your thoughts on this. Just let me know what you think, it would help me a lot, really!_

_Still, I hope you enjoy what my story is turning into. _

* * *

"I don't care what you say, she's most definitely _not _out to get you!"

Hermione Granger slammed her glass of pumpkin juice on the table and continued to stare angrily at the one of her best friends who was, obviously, at fault but refused to admit it. "Seriously, Harry, this is getting out of hand! Last year, you swore Snape was trying to kill you, and this year, you claim that Lockhart and now McGonagall –_McGonagall_, Harry, do you hear how ridiculous that sounds?– are after you!"

Harry was glaring back at her, arms crossed. "Well, in my defence", he spat. "Snape may not have tried to murder me, but _Quirrel _certainly did. Also, that greasy-haired git really hates me, and I never wrote that bloody letter to Parvati! I swear McGonagall conjured it out of thin air to ridicule me!"

Ron looked from the one to the other, not sure whether or not to interrupt –and _if _he were to take part in this obscure shouting-match, which side should he pick?

"Oh yeah? And what reason could she _possibly_ have to do so?", the girl snorted. Merlin, the boys could be so _daft _sometimes!

Harry shook his head in disbelief. They were his friends, for Merlin's sake, so why didn't they support him? After Parvati Patil had shouted at him for 20 whole minutes in the Gryffindor Common-Room, he had really been looking forward to eating his dinner in peace, surrounded by his friends, discussing why McGonagall would slender him. Probably it was her time of the month? Or probably some old-witch equivalent thereof? "How would I know? All I know is that I didn't write the bloody letter, nor did I stare at Parvati or draw her or any of that sort!"

"Sure Harry, and what's next? You'll sure as hell come up with more of these ridiculous stories –Next thing we know, you'll insist Ginny is behind the whole 'Slytherin's heir' crap, and I bet you'll swear that next year's DADA-Professor is some dangerous creature like, say, a werewolf!", Hermione ranted, deliberately picking the most ludicrous examples she could come up with. As all three of them were absorbed in their fight, none of them witnessed Ginny flinch.

"She sure has a point… I mean, my baby sister? That's ridiculous! And why on _earth _would Dumbledore hire a werewolf, right? Right?!", Ron finally said, chuckling nervously.

Harry just kept staring at them sulkily. Finally, he decided on the dramatic-exit effect. "Fine, so don't believe me. But I swear, McG is not herself today!"

"Yeah, right", Hermione snorted as she watched him storm out of the Great Hall, walking right past the subject of their conversation: Minerva McGonagall, whose emerald robes were rustling as she moved (remarkably less cat-like than usually, but Hermione sure as death would _not _give Harry the satisfaction of admitting it) and whose pointy hat was set slightly askew on her greying hair, which was odd in itself; it looked almost as if it had fallen off earlier and she had carelessly put it back on top of her head.

"You know, probably you shouldn't have been so hard on him…", Ron then remarked, breaking Hermione from her reflections. He stared guiltily at the spot where Harry had vanished.

Peevishly, Hermione exclaimed: "Ron! He needs to be brought down to earth! He may be the Boy Who Lived, but he's not the centre of the god-damn universe!"

Potter rushed by right by him as Severus entered the Great Hall, which, if anything, only added to him being exceptionally good-humoured.

Although he would never, ever admit it, Severus found that he had actually _enjoyed _the hour that had followed his uncharacteristic laughing-flash; both ladies turned out to be immensely entertaining and their topics did not once evolve around make-up or clothes or any of those trivial, petty things. They _did_ gossip alright, but the wizard considered it surprisingly interesting and it was almost disappointing that he would not get a chance to attend one of their meetings ever again; after all, he had a reputation to live up to.

So, when he headed the teacher's table to enjoy his hard-earned dinner, he was in an astonishingly good mood that nothing, not even the annoying chatter of the vermin he referred to as students, could mar.

"She's very strange today. Something must really have pissed her off" here and "Have you heard about that McGonagall-Potter incident? –Yeah, Brianna told me! Also, as far as I know, she's had a _huge _fight with Snape this morning. We're talking highly dangerous curses here. They almost _killed _each other if Lockhart had not intervened! –Aww, he's so brave! Risking his life to keep them from fighting…" there.

Usually, this kind of stories would have made him either laugh or puke, he could not quite decide which one, but to his surprise, Severus felt surprisingly aloof and unconcerned by their gossiping.

"Have you heard the rumours?", he whispered softly as he ensconced himself in Minerva's chair between Dumbledore's, who had yet to enter the Great Hall, and his own place in which a cattily grinning McGonagall sat.

Inwardly, Severus sighed with relief at her sight; she obviously had not heard about the Transfiguration lesson yet, or else she would most certainly not smile at him.

"As I can now ascertain, your ears work just about fine. Also the stories are truly hard to miss", she answered before she lifted Severus' goblet to her lips. "Apparently, I turned you into a lion this morning because you kept rambling on about Slytherin defeating my team on Saturday. In return, you then turned me into a hippo, which, as it seems, really hurt my feelings and I am said to still be fuming."

"Huh, haven't heard that one yet", he answered with a smirk. "What's for dinner, anyways?"

Skimming the long wooden table, he soon decided on a delicious-looking steak and roast potatoes, but just as he made to help himself, Minerva remarked far louder than necessary: "But Minerva, dear, you needn't settle for a mingy steak if tonight's special is your very favourite food! I wanted to ask your forgiveness for earlier today, so I ordered it." Indicating a repulsive, brown chunk, she then announced solemnly: "Haggis!"

No… She did not… She would not…

"Oh, Severus, you shouldn't have…", Snape croaked helplessly. Gaping at the muck she heaved onto his plate, he could not believe she would play _that _dirty.

Well, obviously, Goldilocks had not hunted her down yet, so she was in for a little surprise herself this evening. But this… This called for far more desperate measures.

"Dig in, my dear", she chirruped. Not wanting to give her that satisfaction, he slowly took his fork and raised it to his mouth.

How disgusting it would taste… Haggis always made him vomit. The mere thought of eating sheep's pluck in an animal's stomach made him want to puke all over… How repellent! But no, he had to. Just one little bite. One. Tiny. Bite!

Clenching his eyes shut, he quickly shoved it into his mouth and munched excessively. "Yum! Yum-Yum! Yum!", Severus let out before rapidly grabbing the goblet in front of him and washing the food down with some big gulps of wine. "How utterly delicious! Positively luscious, really!"

Of course, the morsel had left an aftertaste in his mouth, but surprisingly, Severus did not consider it particularly unpleasant.

"I'm glad you like it. Anyways, I see you survived the afternoon-tea? Hopefully, the girls were not too hard on you, I mean-" She stopped dead as Snape had taken yet another bite of his dinner. Lowering her voice and gaping at him in shock, McGonagall hissed: "Severus, what are you _doing_? You _despise _haggis!"

"I know. But you don't." Startled at his answer, Minerva's mouth stood slightly open and with a sudden flash of inspiration, Severus knew just the thing to do: He grabbed his fork and force-fed her some Haggis. "You try some, too."

Choking and spluttering, the witch was now the one to reach for her goblet in despair. Draining it with one big gulp, she refilled it quickly with a wave of her wand and emptied it yet again.

"Damn it, Sn-" She caught herself in time, and as she realised how many eyes lay on her, she quickly corrected herself. "McGonagall!"

"Yes, yes, I see", he muttered unaffected by her cursing, trying to sound and look serious only to be betrayed by the gloating that glittered in his eyes. "So my thesis was proved right. Our likes and dislikes, at least in concern of food, have switched as well."

"What, and you couldn't have told me? Did I really have to find out the hard way?", she hissed, still very annoyed.

Severus just shrugged. "After all you've put me through today..."

Minerva looked as if she were going to protest, but then she changed her mind and focused on her food once more, trying to fully rid herself of that taste that still lingered in her mouth.

Taking yet another bite of haggis and munching happily, Severus watched her in a rather pleased way. He then let out: "So… A hippo, eh?"

"Hey, McG!", the all too familiar sound of this generation's Marauders reached his ear after dinner as he was heading to his own office in the Dungeons where Minerva had ordered Malfoy and the youngest male Weasley-brat. They wouldn't arrive for the next twenty minutes, but he there was something he needed to talk to McGonagall about.

_They're all I needed… _Gone was his fantastic mood. "Mr. Weasley, how often have I told you not to call me that!?", he barked, turning around to face the twins. Ah, how very much he despised them… In their very annoying, constantly up-to-no-good ways, they really reminded him of his year's most infamous troublemakers, Potter and Black. The two of them had been a Duo Infernal as well.

"Yeah, anyways, listen up: Gred and me-", one of them went on, completely ignoring his complaints.

"-me n' Forge-", the other twin interjected. Severus had always had trouble distinguishing the two of them, and they didn't make it any easier.

"Have hit on this amazing idea of how to distract the Snakes during the Quidditchmatch!", the first twin ended, beaming all too brightly at him.

Alright, so now they _had _aroused his interest. Raising an eyebrow, Severus let out a small "Oh?" to indicate them to continue.

Both twins were grinning mischievously by now. Quite the actors, they had always had a certain penchant for drama, so obviously, they had prepared a show to go with their presentation.

Drawing his wand, one of the Weasley twins conjured small miniature Quidditch players in silver and green uniforms and made them fly around as if they were to actually play, whereas the other one began to speak in the annoying voice of a stadium announcer: "And here we have the ickle Malfoy-git, easily recognisable by his sleek Barbie-blonde hair and extensive showing off, and two incredibly handsome and unbelievably talented Gryffindor beaters-"

The other twin, who had evoked two redheaded miniature versions of themselves, added unnecessarily "Yours truly" with a huge smirk on his face.

"-coming up on either side. Our heroes, clad in figure-flattering red and gold Quidditch robes, slam both –previously water-drenched– Bludgers at the same time at the little git's pretentious Nimbus 2001, thereby activating the _Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks_ that are hidden in the broom's brushwood. As the fireworks go off, they set off the others that are placed in the rest of the team's brooms, and everybody will enjoy the grand display of our unlimited genius as the fireworks write in the air-"

"Actually, we have not quite figured that out yet", the other twin cut in. "On the one hand, we really couldn't stand somebody else take the credit for our work, but on the other hand… Snape would probably kill us!"

Severus, whose eyes were focused on the miniature fireworks before him, muttered absentmindedly: "He most certainly would…"

"Anyways", the narrating twin –Fred?– continued, "The fireworks' sparks are designed to not set anything on fire, but they will nevertheless activate the itching powder these two prodigies" –he pointed at the mini Fred and George– "have previously sprinkled on the Slytherins' Quidditch robes. And as they will be far too busy scratching every inch of their bodies, Harry" –at this moment, a much smaller version of the Gryffindor seeker popped up– "can catch the golden Snitch easily, leaving the Snakes not only resoundingly defeated by the true champions, but also publically humiliated."

With a 'plop', the miniature Quidditch players disappeared, and the Weasleys, yet again grinning diabolically, took a bow.

_What the hell? _How could they possibly think he would approve of that plan? How could they think _Minerva_ would? True, she was utterly over-ambitious and dead keen on winning, but she was also disgustingly fair and would _never _let them cheat.

Granted, their magic skills were not too bad for Fourth-years. He'd give them that. And actually, as malicious as they were, they might have made a rather nice asset to his own House. Seeing their pranks directed at Gryffindors would truly be quite amusing, but then again… That would make him their Head of House, and therefore responsible for them. He would have to be the one to spend endless hours of detention with them, and not Minerva.

Anyways… At least they got one thing right: If he, Snape, caught them, he would let them have it. And actually… why shouldn't he?

"And why exactly, Mr. Weasley, did you decide to let _me _in on this evil master-plan of yours?", he said with Minerva's most saccharine voice. Both their smirks faded, knowing that his smile augured ill.

The twin who had been narrating, Snape decided on that one being Fred, explained, his voice somewhat insecure all of a sudden: "Well, for a start, you're an awesome Professor."

Seeing that his buttering up did not work, the other twin, whether it really was George or not, continued quickly: "Also, we needed someone to gain us entrance to the Slytherin locker rooms so that we can fix their Quidditch gear and…" He trailed off as his teacher's lips grew thinner (a sign of Minerva's uprising anger that Severus tried to fake as best he could) and a strange poorer-than-usually version of the infamous McGonagall-glare appeared on Snape's face.

"I will not, under _any _circumstances, allow _either one _of you bloody fools to _besmirch_ the name of the House of Gryffindor with your childish little pranks. You will most certainly _not_ tamper with the Slytherins' Quidditch equipment or I swear to Merlin, I will personally turn both of you into Bludgers during the next game and believe me, it is even _more _painful than it sounds", he raged. "To teach you a lesson, I should do just that! Unless you give me _one _good reason to show mercy…?"

During his ranting, the twins seemed to have shrunken to about half their size as they now crouched in front of Severus. They thought so hard of an excuse that their faces, that had blanched earlier, were now glowing in a bright red colour. "Well", one of them said slowly. "We could always… RUNN FOR IT, GEORGE!"

"RUNN LIKE HELL!", the other agreed as they sped down the hallway.

Half-heartedly, Severus fired a few spells after them, missing on purpose. He did not have to make things worse by hexing them on top of it all. _McGonagall will give me hell for this. But well, they asked for it…! _

But the new-found peace would not last for long: He turned to continue his walk to the Dungeons when…

"Professor! Professor McGonagall!", he suddenly heard the breathless shouts of squeaky voices. Dear Merlin, what _now_?!

Ginny Weasley and Colin Creevy were running towards him, both beaming at Severus in delight. Ugh. They represented everything that he despised: Gryffindors and First-years, or as Peeves liked to call them, Firsties. They were _Gryrstiest_.

Turning around ever so slowly to face them, he tried his very best to ban every sign of reluctance from his look, to compose his features and replace the aversion on his face with a stern expression.

"Yes, Mr. Creevy? Ms. Weasley? How may I help you?", Severus enquired, arching an eyebrow.

Dangerously close to him, they came to an abrupt stop and gasped for air. It took quite a while for them to calm down, for both of their faces were blazing red and they were huffing and puffing.

"Well?", Severus snapped at them rather impatiently, suddenly remembering that he was supposed to play Minerva. Depriving his voice from hostility (as far as that was possible, considering the fact that he was dealing with Gryrsties) but keeping it moderately harsh nevertheless, he repeated: "Well?"

In spite of them being intimidated by his former tone, Ginny Weasley was the one to collect herself first and to answer him: "Percy has told me that you're an Animagus, Professor", she declared somewhat cheekily –typical of a Weasley, at least in Snape's opinion.

Had she not had the characteristic flaming-red hair or the freckled face (hand-me-down robes were no indication, since she was the only girl), he would still have been able to guess her parentage by that pert demeanour.

He had to fight the condescending smile that thought evoked in him, so he concentrated on her words instead. What did they want from him? Severus raised his eyebrow even higher, if possible, while he was waiting for them to go on.

"Is that true?", the Creevy-brat enquired nosily. "-Professor?", he added hastily, not wanting to sound impolite.

"Ye-es", Snape said, drawing out his answer for he could already guess what would be next –oh Merlin, do not let it come down to a presentation!

"Well, could you –_show _us, Professor? Please?" Both of them were beaming at him hopefully. That glimmer of innocence, of optimism in children's eyes… Severus had always hated it. Seriously, it made it so much harder to despise children altogether.

Anyways, what should he do? Minerva could be called a lot of things, but she certainly was not one to reject such a request without proper reason.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go meet-", he made a feeble attempt to get away, but the kids would not let up; they begged and pleaded and assured 'it would just take a minute'. When he tried to explain that the Animagus transformation was a very complex process, the Weasley-offspring, who seemed to be irksomely well informed, insisted that the teacher had already _mastered _the Transfiguration and that the only thing left to do was to simply _shift _intothe animalistic form.

"Fine", Severus finally gritted behind clenched teeth. In the end, it had been his own curiosity as to whether he could control this ability of hers and what it would feel like to see the world from cat's eyes.

Next problem, however, was how to actually go about the task of transforming. Since Severus had never asked nor had he read about this part of the transfiguration, the only thing left to do was try.

Under the curious gaze of the two First-years, he concentrated hard on the silver tabby cat he knew Minerva's Animagus form looked like. Severus tried to imagine what it felt like to be said tabby, and then…

The strangest sensation took hold of his body; it was not, as Minerva had once described it, a smooth shifting into the Animagus form, a 'slight and natural pulling in his limbs, almost like stretching'. Describing the feeling as being squashed into a body that was far too small for him, as being squeezed into a far too tight overall, only that the overall in question was his new skin, was more accurate by far.

Also, there was an awful lot of fur involved. Fur everywhere. Even in his mouth and throat, and he had no idea how in hell it could have gotten there.

As the two students eyed him suspiciously, he had the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong.

* * *

_I haven't gotten all that much feedback lately, but I want to thank you for the ones I did get. It's really, really good to know what you think, so thank's a lot! :D  
Hope you liked the chapter! _

_tbc..._


	6. Letter to Lily

_I'm really, really sorry for the long wait. Graduation is coming closer, and there's just so much work to do that I hardly have time for writing anymore...  
Well, anyways, I wanted to apologise by making this chapter a little longer (not at all trying to bribe you, no) but it seems as if that plan failed and I just don't have the energy or the motivation left to change it now, seeing that I spent it all on school work. Not that I'm complaining or anything ;)  
Also, I'm really sorry for the formatting. I'm trying really hard, but my laptop is fighting me. _

_Nevertheless, hope you enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or the settings in this story, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling._

* * *

As the clock stroke quarter to eight at night, Minerva found herself pacing yet again. For 10 minutes at least had she been drawing her circles in Snape's unfriendly and cold office, impatiently waiting for her colleague to enter the dimly lit room. The whole evening had she been brooding over the dilemma she found herself confronted with:

Being stuck in Severus' body while trying not to reveal her true identity meant that she had to be harsh towards Weasley, much more so than towards Malfoy. Although it was against everything she stood for, she would have to punish her students unfairly if she didn't want to arouse any suspicions. So was there a way out?

Yes, indeed there was! Around half past seven had she come up with the perfect solution, but as much as she hated to admit it, her plan required the Potion-Master's assistance.

And now? Her plan, her absolutely foolproof (but, as it seemed, not Snape-proof) plan was about to go out the window! Minerva, having watched far too many of those muggle-crime shows her mother had been so fond of, had decided upon doing that good cop, bad cop thingy. She, true to Snape's character, would play the bad cop, wanting to punish Ronald a lot harder than necessary whereas she would pretend to let Malfoy get away with whatever he had done to contribute to their fight. Snape the good cop, however, would have to insist on punishing them both equally and fairly until she would finally and teeth-clenchingly give in after a short fight.

But right as she had come to accept him as her partner in crime did he have to ruin everything by not _bloody_ showing up!

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Minerva let herself fall onto the hard wooden chair behind his desk. The boys would be there any minute now, and even if Severus had the decency of kindly turning up, there wouldn't be any time left to explain her plan to him. Ah, that annoying little git… There was absolutely no relying on him!

Just as she wanted to get up for another round of pacing, a short knock on the door made her freeze in the motion. A quick glance at the clock and she knew that the boys would not arrive for another two minutes (honestly – what pupil would voluntarily spend more time with the greasy sourpuss than strictly necessary?), so she dared hoping again. Quickly straightening up in her chair, she focused on the silver doorknob.

"Ye-es?", she then called, trying to imitate Snape's bored snarl as best she could.

As the door was opened shyly and a shock of red hair appeared, all hope was wrecked yet again.

Letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, Minerva groaned: "Mr. Weasley, what are you doing here _already_?"

"La-Last time I was late by three minutes you took an extra 20 points from Gryffindor", the poor boy mumbled. His face displayed an odd mixture of fear and disgust.

The deputy just wanted to give him a minor punishment and send him away before anyone could hear her when the door opened again and Malfoy, a younger version of his father, really, entered the room with a haughty sneer on his face.

"Well, Weasley, that will be another 10 points for being too early", she then heard herself proclaim – needless to say that it didn't sound like her at all. Still, Minerva was appalled at how easily she had agreed to play Snape's part and let her frustration out on an innocent little student.

Malfoy snickered and seemed even more arrogant and self-complacent than usually whereas Weasley's face reddened and he looked like he was about to protest. _Stuff it. In for a knut, in for a galleon_, Minerva thought and said: "Mr. Weasley, hold your tongue or I might feel the need to take even more points. Now, let's get this over with, shall we?"

Twenty minutes later, Minerva was heading towards her own quarters to track Severus down, still shaking her head at what she had just done. A whole month's worth of detention (with her, that is, for she could not risk the lifelong mental damage caused by 30 days nonstop Severus) and 50 points from Gryffindor for Weasley, whereas Malfoy had gotten away with 15 points from Slytherin and scrubbing the trophy room. Sweet Merlin, how could she have so readily agreed to play Snape's part? How could she have abandoned her values and morals so quickly?

Just as she thought Severus simply couldn't be doing worse than her did she see… it.

In Minerva's face, a vivid battle of emotions was taking place, as he was trying to figure out whether to be angry or amused. Finally, she decided to go for a stern yet furious facial expression while rushing towards it, her robes billowing dramatically behind her.

"Hey, puss in boots!", Minerva, trying to sound serious, called out to the creature resembling a silver tabby at the end of the hallway, curiously still wearing her human boots. That was not the end of it, though: As that… being spun around to locate her voice, she saw that it's snout had a rather unusual form. It was longer and more pointed, but the animal still had long whiskers and cat ears as well as the cattail.

The most striking differences, however, were the huge eyes, one of a glowing yellow colour, the other one pitch-black, and the strange quill-like things coming out of it's back. The students must have considered this quite amusing, for the creature had all kinds of things spiked on it's back; pieces of parchment, sweet wrapper and, curiously, a miniature-version of her own hat. She figured that the shaky dance the animal had been doing when she had first seen it was a desperate try to get rid of those… decorations.

"Severus? Is that you?", she choked with suppressed laughter. "How in the world did that happen?"

"What does it look like?" Since wizards and witches are usually not able to talk while in their animagus form, she was surprised to actually get an answer, and even more so because his voice sounded as squeaky as Mickey Mouse. That was the final straw; Minerva just couldn't hold back anymore, she burst into roaring laughter.

A few tears were even running down her slightly flushed cheeks when she once again got a grip on herself. "What are you supposed to be, anyways? A Porcupine? Jolteon? Sonic?"

"I figured I might be supposed to be a mixture of my potential animagus form and your actual one, some kind of cat-hedgehog an– Wait, how on earth do you know the name of a Pokémon?"

Choosing to ignore his question, Minerva whipped away the last of her laughing tears and stared at him expectantly. "So what? Undo whatever you've done so we can both get some sleep!"

Suddenly, though, Severus seemed uneasy. Looking up at her with that huge, yellow eye like a child that had stolen a cookie, he squeaked: "Well, you see… I can't."

"What do you mean, can't?", she exclaimed somewhat unnerved. Oh Merlin, would that horrid day never end? All she wanted was a steaming cup of hot chocolate and a warm bed, was that too much to ask? Instead, she had to deal with some cat-hedgehog mutant, and it was all Snape's fault!

He shifted nervously from one leg to the other, his tail twitching edgily. "I've tried everything I could think of, but this seems to be… irreversible…"

"Dear Merlin, haven't we both suffered enough for today?" Trying to sooth her nerves, she began rubbing her temples. As this showed no effect –how could that little trick actually help after everything she'd been through?– she quickly drew her wand. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

"What are you doing?", the spiky little ball with a cat's tail that hung in the air in front of her screeched. The shock of being levitated must have made him roll up, as a proper hedgehog would have.

"Well, somehow I must get you to the hospital wing. Walking just won't do, you're far too slow and I feel no desire whatsoever to touch you", Minerva explained as she set into motion. All the way to Poppy's office, Snape floated in front of her; he had unrolled himself and ranted for the larger part of their way, but she wasn't particularly affected by it. Quite frankly, she found his squeaky helium voice to be rather amusing, adorable even.

After having reached to hospital wing and crossed the large room with the patient's beds, Minerva raised her hand to knock at her long-term friend's door. This, however, proved unnecessary when Poppy, sour-looking and wearing a fuzzy dressing gown and slippers, opened said door to great them with a rather harsh: "What is it _now_? I was trying to get at least _some _sleep, for Merlin's sake!"

"I didn't mean to wake you Pop-erm, Pomfrey, but you see… Minerva here seems to have gotten herself into some rather ugly situation." Although the school nurse eyed her rather suspiciously at first, she soon turned her full attention to the creature hanging in mid-air.

"Oh dear, what do we have here? Shouldn't you be the expert on Transfiguration, Min?", she muttered in a still irritated but somewhat kinder voice as she pulled her wand out. Poppy took over, navigating the floating Severus to one of the beds and almost dropping him when he answered, shooting the real Minerva a reproachful glance: "One might think so, but contrary to common belief, I can't even fix a mess the size of a cadgehog."

Growling, Minerva walked over to him. "So you're blaming this on me? _I _have no idea what to do because _I _have never been stupid enough to get myself into such a dilemma and in all honesty, I haven't the nerve to deal with even _more_ magic gone wrong today. Seeing that it's all your faul-"

She was cut off mid-sentence by Poppy: "I have no idea _what _insanity is going on here, and I highly doubt I want to know, by Merlin's beard… You'd better leave now, Snape, I need to concentrate."

Somewhat taken aback at her friend whom she had known since her school years speaking in such an unkind way to her, but thankful for stopping her before she could unintentionally have revealed her true identity, Minerva mumbled a quick "Good night" and left the infirmary.

_Hopefully Snape doesn't talk in his sleep_, she though, already heading to the Dungeons with large strides. The one good thing was, however, that she could at last go to bed.

Or so she thought.

"So I have finally succeeded in catching you alone", someone suddenly shouted, followed by a hearty and completely exaggerated laugh. "You just don't want to make this any easier for me, now, do you?"

Minerva spun around, though she already knew whom she would have to deal with now. "Goldi–erm, Gilderoy! What a surprise!", Minerva blurted out, caught off guard. Of all people, Goldilocks was the one she had least expected –and wanted– to see.  
Prince Charming completely missed out on her little slip. He was far too busy smiling what he seemed to consider a winning, glowing smile when in fact all she saw were far too many, far too shiny teeth. "Well, if it isn't my favourite potion master! Looking good, Severus!"  
Had Goldilocks changed yet again? The flashing-green robes he now wore were not the same she had seen him in during the day, but the colour hurt her eyes just as much. Coming far too close, he put his arm to rest on Minerva's shoulder while he continued babbling: "Indeed it is a surprise to encounter you here, a very pleasant one I may add."  
Wait a moment! Was he… trying to come on to her? As in, _flirting_ with her, Minerva McGonagall, trapped in Snape's body? As in, _flirting_ with _Severus Snape_!?

Had she been in her own body right now, watching from somewhere in the distance, she would probably be on the floor laughing by now. But this was serious. Dead serious.

"I'm a very, very busy man", she hissed, almost flinching herself when she heard the words come out in Severus' icy, ominous voice. Nevertheless, she succeeded in maintaining the severe, arrogant look and continued as she tried to break loose: "And I have some urgent business to attend to, so if you could just let me go-"

But obviously, this would have been too easy. The other man seemed nowhere near letting her leave just like that, on the contrary, he moved even closer so Minerva could smell the sickeningly sweet perfume he must have bathed in. What a poignant scent… Had he stolen it from one of the girl students, Cho Chang maybe, Minerva couldn't help wondering?

"But Severus", Goldilocks purred, his voice dropping an octave. "You don't have to make excuses. Nobody can see us now, we're finally _alone_." As he laid far too much emphasis on the last word, a wave of nausea hit the deputy. This simply couldn't end well… And had he seriously just… winked at her?

Suddenly, it hit her, and it hit her hard. Had Severus not implied that he was kinda-sorta dating somebody? What if…? No. No, it simply couldn't be _Goldilocks _he had been talking about!

Then again… Minerva did not know about his… _preferences_, and since she had never actually seen him with a woman, it was probably not all that unlikely.

But Severus abhorred that man! Had she not seen the pure hatred in his eyes just a few hours ago?

What if she had been wrong, though? Maybe what she had seen hadn't been hatred but passion, and Severus only _pretended_ to despise the man –more than any of her other colleagues, mind you– so that nobody would suspect anything? After all, Severus had been a spy during the last war, so he was a fairly good actor. Couldn't he have them all fooled?

Minerva felt that her head was spinning – Merlin, this was too much, she could not take any more. Meanwhile, the man with the horrid golden locks had come dangerously close, sending cold shivers down her spine. And although she was not so sure about his and Severus' relationship anymore, there was one thing she knew for sure: She, Minerva McGonagall, could not stand Prince Charming's presence for more than a minute and Dumbledore would shave his beard off before she could pretend to be in love with that clown. She had to get out of there, quick!

This, however, turned out to be more complicated than Minerva had previously assumed – it seemed as if she had been backing off while lost in though, so that she now found herself pressed against the cold stone wall in the most unfortunate way. Goldilocks had her cornered!

His eyes, their blue reminding her more of mould than of forget-me-nots so close-up, were twinkling in a far too excited manner. "Oh, so you want to… play?", he whispered in what he must consider to be his sexy-voice, but really it came out rather creepy.

Minerva wanted to protest heavily, but instead he squeezed her against the wall – at his touch, she shuddered with disgust, but unfortunately Goldilocks completely misinterpreted this.

"Oh, you like that? I feel like I'm beginning to understand the rules of your game…", Lockhart murmured while running his hand through Minerva's hair. _Yuck, how can he voluntarily touch that grease!?_, she thought while shoving his hand away.

"You don't understand a thing, you fool, and this is no bloody game", Minerva pressed out –Merlin, if that idiot wouldn't back off her ribcage soon he might suffocate her! Now how romantic would that be? She felt her hand twitching for her wand, only to notice that it must have fallen out of her pocket. In panic she quickly scanned the floor and found her wand lying some five metres away.

"I am a former Death Eater, you know!", she then hissed threateningly, trying to push the man away. "Do you have a death wish?!"

Trying to fight him off simply didn't work, her wand was gone, and as breathing became insufferably hard, Minerva grew increasingly desperate. Fine, so there was really no other way… You'd better get your shaver ready, Dumbledore!

"Alright, Gilderoy, you were right, I cannot resist you any longer; but just because you have won tonight doesn't mean I'll go easy on you in the future", Minerva then said, her voice completely different now. She forced herself to smirk playfully. "But not here… I don't want anyone to know."

"Let them know", the blond man exclaimed heatedly, his eyes brightening up as he let go of Minerva while he gestured telling the world. "Let them know you're mine!"

_Good Godric, what have I done to deserve this?!_, the deputy thought while answering: "But all of the women here would hate me so very much for being with you. Besides, wouldn't that ruin all the… fun?" _Eyelashes, woman, eyelashes! Just bloody wink at him, your life depends on it!_

"But Se-" Couldn't that fool just shut up? Slightly impatient, Minerva just cut in: "Listen, Gilderoy… The mood just isn't right here. Why don't you go to your room and draw a bath for the two of us?" At this, Lockhart's toothpaste-commercial grin grew even wider.

"Wait! What about you, my love?", Goldilocks enquired, still not letting go of her bloody hand.

"Oh I'll just get that bottle of oak-matured mead from my chambers… I have been saving it for a moment like this, you know", she whispered seductively, fighting the urge to vomit.

Just as she thought she had gotten rid of him, at the verge of letting go of her hand, Goldilocks suddenly pulled her back and caught her in his arms. Minerva, taken by surprise, did not know what happened to her until their lips collided violently. For one second during which she was too stunned to move, one second that felt like hell on earth, the feeling of Goldilocks lips, hard against her own, was all she could feel and think of.

As soon as she had regained control over her body, Minerva broke loose and practically sprinted off, collecting her wand in the process. All the way to Severus rooms, the taste of strawberry lip balm burned on her lips, presumably haunting her for the rest of her life.

Snapping the password Snape had formerly given to her as soon as she arrived in front of the portrait of Salazar Slytherin, Minerva stormed into his chambers and immediately cast every protection charm she could possibly think of, even the dark ones she had learned ages ago and never intended on using. Although Goldilocks could most likely not even use a simple "Alohomora", she couldn't be safe enough that night; the thought of him turning up in her bedroom sent cold shivers down her spine.

The nerve of that clown! _Kissing _her, full on the lips! She would never, ever be able to forget that ghastly feeling…

With a loud pop, a house-elf suddenly appeared by her side. "Master looks upset", he stated. "Should Jolly get Master a drink?"

"Yes… Hot cacao, I _need _hot cacao, please!", Minerva sighed exhaustedly. With it's huge, tennis-ball green eyes, Jolly stared up at her in bewilderment. Something told her that Severus didn't usually consume hot chocolate. Anyways, since she was already acting his part… "And… Do add a rather large shot of firewhiskey if you're already at it, will you?"

The house-elf, still somewhat perplexed but reassured by the more common order, nodded and disappeared at once.

Sighing yet again, Minerva sank into a mossy green armchair by the already lit fireplace and let her gaze wander through the sparely furnished room; Severus really did not care greatly about decorations. The room contained quite a number on bookshelves, but that was almost all; other than that, there were only the basics: The chair she presently sat in and a small side table, a working desk with a wooden chair and, to her great delight, a chess table in the corner.

Something had caught her attention, however: A single white sheet of parchment contrasted the dark wooden writing desk it lay on, next to a raven quill and a small bottle of ink.

_Curiosity killed the cat_, she strictly reminded herself. _It is certainly not for you to read, Min._

Then again… Technically, she currently _was _Severus Snape, and this was her letter now. Absentmindedly, she took the steaming cup Jolly handed her (when had he turned up again?) and, thanking him quickly, dismissed him for the night. She then got up and in no time was she bent over the table, quietly reading the letter.

_Dearest Lily,_

_Although I must have told you so about a million times, I still want you to know that you are on my mind all the time. I think of you first thing in the morning and the last thing I see before falling asleep at night is your lovely face. _

_Without you in my life, every day is of the same gray dullness, so I apologise sincerely for not having any real news to tell you. Today was no different; I got up in the morning, got dressed and had breakfast with the other teachers. Oh, Filius said something you would have enjoyed very much indeed. He was telling a delightful story about a student mixing up a consolation-charm with a colouration-spell, causing her friend's hair to turn pink. I couldn't help but think the entire time: "Lily would have loved this!"_

_Sometimes, I really wonder how you could _not _have ended in Ravenclaw; smartest witch of our year, Headgirl, graduating at the top of our class… _

_Anyways, after breakfast I headed to the Dungeons right away and prepared for class. As you know, on Wednesdays, I teach your son first thing in the morning. So anyways, guess who blew his cauldron up _again_? No need to worry, it wasn't Harry. That Longbottom-boy, however, is quite a pain in the neck; that makes it his seventh explosion this month-_

The letter ended there, but Minerva just kept staring at the piece of parchment in silence. It clearly was written the previous day, but… Did this mean Severus had been doing this regularly? Were there more letters?

Minerva bit her lip, fighting back the tears that were coming to her eyes. All of those years, she hadn't suspected a thing…She had thought she knew Severus, but clearly, she had no idea about the man whom she had come to appreciate as a dear friend. The pain he must feel…

This was too much to process all at once, and suddenly, Minerva felt more exhausted than ever. How she had managed to drag herself to his bed she never knew, only the dreams of that night would be etched on her memory forever; Lily, forever unaware of his feelings, and Severus, still holding on to her after all these years…

Minerva would never see him in the same light ever again.

* * *

_Sorry to all of you Pokémon lovers, I have actually no idea what I was doing since I never actually played Pokémon... Hope I didn't get it wrong enough to make someone vow lifelong vengeance. Do I get points for trying, though?_

_Hope you liked it! Let me know what you think of the chapter :)_

_tbc..._


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